


The Goddess of Rebirth

by Sarah_Black



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV), Greek and Roman Mythology
Genre: Abduction, Alternate Universe - Greek Mythology, F/M, Older Man/Younger Woman, Ramsay is his own warning, Sansa as Persephone, Shameless Smut, Stannis as Hades, Tommyginger made me do it, Wedding Night, verging on Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-23
Updated: 2015-09-29
Packaged: 2018-04-23 02:45:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 39,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4860056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarah_Black/pseuds/Sarah_Black
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stannis as Hades, Sansa as Persephone. A retelling of the classic myth - Song of Ice and Fire style.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. From Nysa to Elysium

**Author's Note:**

> I just want to thank [spittingfeathers](http://archiveofourown.org/users/spittingfeathers/pseuds/spittingfeathers) for looking this over for me. Such a lovely beta reader! All remaining goofs and mistakes in the text are of course mine.
> 
> Also, I probably would not have finished this fic if [Tommyginger](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Tommyginger/pseuds/Tommyginger) hadn't shouted at me to keep at it.
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** GRRM owns all, I do not profit. Yada yada ya.

Stannis sighed and looked out over his kingdom. His very dark, very dreary, very gloomy kingdom. The Styx wound its way past him, and the Lethe could just barely be glimpsed in the distance. Perhaps he should just go dunk his head in the Lethe and try to forget how awful eternity was turning out to be?

Since the fateful day he had drawn lots with his brothers Robert and Renly his life had been in a downward spiral. Perhaps it had been Robert’s due as the eldest to rule as King of the Gods at Olympus, but he was such utter _shite_ at it. Stannis had always been the more responsible one. He would have done the job _properly._ He wouldn’t waste his time drinking and whoring and siring an endless procession of bastards. And what had that thing with Leda been? A swan, Robert? A _swan?_

Stannis tried to relax his jaw when he realised he was grinding his teeth again.

Perhaps a walk would calm him.

He scrounged up his helmet of invisibility and took off towards the Acheron and the ferry.

“My lord!” Davos the ferryman exclaimed as soon as he spotted Stannis.

“I’m going for a walk. Shan’t be long, just need to clear my head.”

“Of course, my lord.” Davos bowed deeply and began to ferry Stannis across the Acheron at a sedate, dignified pace.

“Was there anything in particular that vexes you today, my lord?” Davos asked conversationally after a while.

Davos had known Stannis for a very long time so Stannis did not mind the familiar question. He didn’t really feel like answering it, but the fact that Davos dared to question him did not offend.

“Just the usual,” Stannis said with a scowl.

“Ah.”

Davos was silent for a few beats.

“If I might suggest Nysa for your walk? Podrick the Messenger said it was particularly fine at this time of year.”

Stannis considered it. Nysa was a refuge for virginal goddesses and nymphs. What on earth had Podrick been doing _there?_ Stannis did not think it would be entirely appropriate for him to darken Nysa with his presence. However, if Podrick could go… perhaps something had changed? Perhaps it was now open to gods as well as goddesses? He quite liked the idea of serene meadows in springtime. It would make for a nice change. He looked around resentfully; it was always so gloomy in the Underworld.

Anyway, if Nysa was still closed off he could always just put on his trusty helmet. No goddess need clutch her pearls for his sake. He was not like his brother Robert, unable to contain himself at the sight of nubile flesh.

“Thank you for the suggestion. Nysa may suit my needs,” Stannis said stiffly.

Davos just nodded.

On his way out of his kingdom he paused to play fetch with Cerberus for a while. That dog did not get nearly enough exercise. When the heads of the mutt started to argue over which one was to carry the stick in its mouth, he decided to call it quits. Tossing three sticks at a time would just get confusing.

“Heel,” he commanded, thinking to himself that he should reduce the portions Cerberus was fed. The mutt was getting fat. No one would be remotely intimidated by a fat guard dog; no matter how many heads it had or how big its teeth were. Either that or he’d need to start taking Cerberus on walks. Perhaps he could take him up and down Olympus? Robert would love that, no doubt.

With a lazy hand gesture Stannis opened a cleft in the earth above him so that he might travel to Nysa. As a precaution he put his helmet on before he walked through. The cleft closed up behind him as if it had never been there.

The sunlight was absurdly bright in comparison with the gloom of the Underworld, and Stannis squinted and blinked for a good long while before he was able to get his bearings. He registered sounds and scents before he was able to see anything, and he was surprised at how wholly _pleasant_ both were. He could hear the wind stirring the grass and the new leaves of the trees, and smell wildflowers and fresh growth. It was soothing and peaceful here.

He hated it at once.

It had been a mistake to come here. This was everything he could not have in his home. Even if he started to visit every day, he would never be able to stay for long. He should not torment himself with things he could not have.

His eyes had finally adjusted to the bright light of the sun and he looked around in disgust. The place looked just as idyllic as it smelled and sounded. Everything was beautiful, bursting with life and colour. He could even spot a few Oceanids picking flowers in a nearby meadow to complete the picture of perfect springtime contentment.

He was grinding his teeth again in frustration. Should he just leave?

Stannis caught a flash of copper out of the corner of his eye. One of the Oceanids had a stunning mane of red hair, that seemed to glow copper in the sun. She had porcelain skin and bright blue eyes that shone like a cool, sparkling lake on a sunny day. The beauty of the wildflowers in her hands paled in comparison with her. She was quite literally the most stunning creature Stannis had ever seen. 

Perhaps it would not hurt to stay a bit longer to observe her and the others? He had come this far, after all. He moved nearer, feeling as if he were in a trance.

When he was close enough to see the faces of her companions more clearly he froze. Two of the presumed Oceanids were in fact goddesses that he recognised. Arya, the virgin goddess of the hunt and wild animals, and Brienne, the virgin goddess of war, wisdom and justice.

It was obviously as he had thought. Nysa was still a refuge for virgin goddesses. He’d have to make sure to remain unseen.

“Sansa, do you think we have gathered flowers enough for your crown?” Brienne asked, sounding a little tired.

“Yes, this is so _boring,_ ” Arya complained, rolling her eyes.

“Oh, certainly! I was just enjoying this too much to stop!” Sansa giggled.

Sansa. Her name was _Sansa._ It was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard.

 _Hm. Hadn’t he heard that name before, though?_ Stannis furrowed his brow in concentration, trying to recall where he had heard that name. The goddesses and the Oceanids moved to sit down with their wildflower treasure and began to weave the flowers into a chains and decorate each other’s hair with them.

“I wish for white flowers only in my hair!” Sansa exclaimed.

“Oh, that will look very well with the red!” an Oceanid replied excitedly. Arya huffed out an annoyed breath and looked at her armful of blue flowers in frustration.

Stannis did not understand himself at all. Usually he would have been sickened, or at the very least bored, by such inane chatter, but he found himself utterly enchanted. White flowers _would_ look very well with her hair.

He watched with rapt attention as the Oceanids wove a glorious crown of white narcissus flowers for Sansa’s mane of copper tresses.

It often happened that when he stopped trying to remember something it suddenly came to him. This was such a time. The recollection of where he had heard Sansa’s name came to him after a while of losing himself in the pleasure of watching her.

She was Catelyn’s daughter. It was said that the harvest goddess was fiercely protective of her sweet Sansa, and kept her in seclusion, guarded at all times by other virginal goddesses or herself.

It was no mere Oceanid he was admiring, but a goddess in her own right! The goddess of spring itself! Stannis felt his heart speed up to a frenzied hammering beat, his breathing becoming agitated and excited.

He wanted her. He _needed_ her. And why should he not have her? She looked every inch a Queen with her crown of flowers, and he had no Queen. What goddess would not want to be Queen of one of the three realms? He could make her a new crown of precious metals and jewels! His realm was the richest, after all. He could cover her sweet body in sparkling stones and worship her from morning until night. She was a goddess; surely she would enjoy that.

The fates must have brought him here! Surely she was meant to be his? Why else would he want her so much?

“It’s ready, my lady!” an Oceanid exclaimed, one last narcissus having been woven into place.

“I will go look at my reflection in the pool!” Sansa got to her feet and ran swiftly to the pool nearby.

The distance between her and the others grew and Stannis understood that he had an _opportunity._

It was utter madness, but Stannis did not care. He would have Sansa as his Queen. It was fated.

He ran after her, silent as death, quick as thought. Before she reached the pool he had one arm around her waist and used the other to gesture at the ground, opening a cleft that would allow him to enter his own realm.

Sansa screamed in fright, and he realised that to her it was as if a phantom had apprehended her.

Right before the ground closed above them he ripped his helmet off so that he might calm her down, but the sight of him and the sight of the ground closing above them seemed too much for her. She fainted in his arms.

Well, he supposed it was all a little shocking. She’d come around.

Holding her in his arms was blissful. She weighed just about nothing at all, and the scent of her was all narcissus flowers, sunshine and something delicious he could not quite describe. Her skin was smoother and softer than anything he had ever touched and he longed to put her down so that he could stroke her hair, her face, her arms and her legs, and bury his face in the crook of her neck.

He ignored Cerberus this time, even though two of the three heads gave him hopeful looks, and his tail started to wag.

By the time he reached the Acheron he was deeply involved in a fantasy of what sweet ecstasy it would be to touch her lips with his fingertips so he was almost startled when Davos cleared his throat.

“My lord?” There was a very curious tone to his voice, and Stannis could practically hear the unspoken words of an inquiry. _‘What are you doing with that unconscious girl in your arms?’_

Stannis clenched his jaw. It was not in Davos’ job description to question him! Perhaps he should never have tolerated any questions from him if it made the man presumptuous like that.

“Ferry us across,” he commanded imperiously, ignoring the ferryman’s implied question.

“Certainly, my lord.”

They were silent for a while, and Stannis had almost forgotten all about Davos in favour of imagining how wonderful life would be with Sansa as his Queen, when the man spoke again.

“Did you have an enjoyable walk, my lord?”

Stannis glared at Davos. “It was tolerable.”

“I see you’ve rescued a damsel. I do hope nothing untoward happened to her.” Davos sounded studiously nonchalant, and was focusing very hard on the distant bank of the river.

Stannis felt himself reddening slightly. He had not exactly been the hero that Davos described.

“No harm will come to her while she’s with me,” Stannis swore, as much as to convince himself as to convince Davos.

“Just as you say, my lord.”

The rest of the journey passed in silence.

Stannis deposited Sansa’s unconscious body in the most opulent chamber he could find, and commanded it be filled with precious stones for her to admire. Seeing her on a soft bed, her luminous skin putting the white linens to shame, drove him almost mad with the need to lie down with her, but he controlled himself. _He was not Robert._

Instead he placed a chair next to the bed and sat there, anxiously waiting for her to wake up.

When her eyelashes started to flutter open Stannis stopped breathing. Their eyes met. Hers widened.

“Where am I?” she asked, her voice a frightened, shivering little thing.

“In my realm,” he said solemnly, masking his excitement.

“Oh.” Sansa looked around, taking in the obscene amount of sparkling stones and precious jewels. “ _Oh!_ ” she repeated, understanding dawning behind those bright blue eyes. Who else but the King of the Underworld would take her through a cleft in the earth and bring her to a chamber filled with riches?

Her eyes were like sapphires, he thought. He’d very much like to have her dripping in sapphires…

“You are Lord Stannis?” she asked timidly, as if she were afraid that her assumption was correct.

“At your service.” He inclined his head. She closed her eyes briefly at having her fear confirmed, but visibly steeled herself and opened them again, meeting his own eyes bravely.

“Thank you, my lord. You are most kind. Only I wondered…” she trailed off uncertainly, looking curiously at him with those beautiful sapphire eyes. It made his breath catch.

“Yes?” he prompted eagerly.

“... I wondered why you brought me here, my lord.”

Of course she wondered about that. He should probably tell her something and stop looking at her like he wanted to eat her alive.

“I wish for you to be my Queen,” he told her truthfully. He could see Robert rolling his eyes at his blunt delivery in his mind’s eye, but it was not in his nature to mince words. Anyway, Robert could say nothing against this. For one thing he’d make himself a filthy hypocrite if he did, and for another, Stannis had long ago received Robert’s blessing to take any unmarried goddess as his bride, as long as she had not vowed to be a Virgin Goddess. Robert could most definitely not object to this union.

Sansa let out a little startled breath, but he saw no fear in her eyes. If it was there she had hidden it masterfully. It surprised and pleased him to see her bravery.

“Please, I mean no disrespect, but why did you not ask for a meeting with my mother and myself to discuss this?”

Stannis clenched his jaw. He had known Catelyn for a very long time. If he had alerted her to the fact that he desired her daughter, she would have hidden Sansa away even more securely than before. Did Sansa not understand this? He shook his head slowly, frustrated and growing tired of explaining himself. He was the ruler of the Underworld. He was not to be questioned by a minor goddess!

Although...

She would not be a minor goddess once they were wed. She would be his Queen and share in his power. Perhaps it would not do to start this relationship off on an even worse foot than it already had.

“Your mother would not have allowed such a meeting,” he explained, attempting to sound patient.

“Surely she would have showed you all the respect that you are due? She could not have refused _you._ ” Sansa argued, placing a reverent emphasis on the last word, her blue eyes wide and innocent.

Stannis could not help huffing out a mocking sound. The respect that he was due. Hah! The other gods and goddesses slighted him at every turn! They never treated him with respect. They treated him as if he were an uncomfortable secret; best kept hidden from view and out of the way. They said their polite words whenever they were faced with him, but he was no fool. He knew he was not liked. No mother would wish for him to be husband to a precious, beloved daughter.

“Are you questioning my methods?” he growled in annoyance.

Sansa blanched and shook her head quickly. “No, of course not, my lord! I am simply young and foolish, please forgive me!”

She looked terrified now. He had much preferred the way she had met his eyes bravely. Only a select few dared look upon him in such a way.

“Calm yourself, I am not angry,” he said, hoping she would heed his command.

She took a few deep breaths and made an effort to master her fear. He watched her in rapt fascination, amazed by the play of emotion on her features.

“Am I to have any say in this?” she asked softly after a while, gazing at him with her doe eyes.

“You will be one of the most powerful goddesses in the world, a feared and respected Queen, richer than any other!” He gestured around the room at the wealth that surrounded them to drive his point home.

“Of course, my lord.” Sansa bowed her head to him, hiding her face and her reaction to his words.

He grabbed her chin and forced her to meet his eyes once more, angry at her for hiding herself from his gaze. Her eyes were full of tears. He released her immediately, feeling as if he had burnt his hand.

Why did she weep? It stirred in him feelings that he had not felt since he was a child; feelings of helplessness and doubt that squeezed at his innards unpleasantly.

“I will not hurt you, my lady,” he said uncertainly, hoping it would stop her tears.

“No, you will only ask me to wed you and rule at your side without asking for my opinion on the matter.”

Had she been standing he thought she might have squared her shoulders defiantly. As she was lying down she made do with lifting her chin and letting her eyes flash like one of Robert’s lightnings.

Stannis was taken aback by her caustic words. Who did she think she was that she would have a say in who she would wed? She had not been declared an official Virgin Goddess. Surely she knew that she would be brought before Robert and paired off with someone eventually? Knowing Robert he would probably seek to ruin her first. Stannis would spare her that.

At least her anger seemed to have stopped her tears.

“What is your opinion on the matter?” he asked, surprising both himself and her from the look on her face.

“I - I - I am not entirely sure,” she stammered, blinking up at him rapidly. She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths. When she opened her eyes again, she looked calmer.

“I am honoured by your suit, Lord Stannis, I would not wish to displease you by refusing. However, I am a goddess of spring and I would miss the world above most desperately were I to stay here with you. I would not be able to perform my duties!”

Stannis furrowed his brow. Sansa had a point.

“Another goddess might take over your duties.” There.

“Oh,” she breathed softly, bowing her head again. She did not force him to reach for her chin as she looked back up after only a brief moment. “May I make a small request, my lord?”

Stannis was curious. What manner of request might she make?

“You may ask, I will decide whether to grant it.”

“Might we take a week or so to get to know each other before I am to be bound to you?” She looked at him pleadingly, her eyes still glistening a little with unshed tears. “I do not know you, and I cannot see how you could possibly know me. If we are to spend eternity together, would it not be wise to make sure that we are compatible?”

It was not an unreasonable request, Stannis thought. He could not imagine that there was anything about this sweet goddess he would not like; they were fated to be, he was sure of it. A few days would not matter, but a week felt like much too long.

“Three days,” he declared, “we shall get to know each other for three days. At the end of the third day I will decide.” 

Sansa nodded gratefully, closing her eyes as she did. “Thank you, my lord. You are truly as just as they say.”

Her words sparked a memory deep within his mind. _There is no creature on earth half so terrifying as a truly just man._ He clenched his jaw and closed his eyes briefly as if to close his mind against it. Memory thus dismissed, Stannis straightened his back a little and looked searchingly at Sansa. Did she mean to flatter him?

She met his eyes steadily, seemingly at peace now that she had negotiated a few days to get to know him. He could read neither untoward intentions nor eagerness in her eyes.

“Have you rested enough?” he asked at length.

“I think so,” she told him shyly. She sat up and stretched. The movement was hypnotising and Stannis could not help his greedy stare. Her chiton shifted as she moved and he felt envious of the fabric for resting against her fragrant, flawless skin.

Still staring, he spoke almost without thinking. “Would you like to see my realm?”

“Oh!” She looked very surprised by the offer. “Yes, please!” She gave him a dazzling smile, and Stannis felt almost speechless at the sight of it. He had thought she had been beautiful before, but now that she was smiling she looked _radiant._ He had expected her to be more reserved and suspicious of him, but it seemed that she intended to honour the spirit of their agreement and make every effort to get to know him with an open mind. The notion floored him completely.

Her smile faded into a questioning look when he just sat there and stared at her. Feeling a little foolish, he got up and offered her his arm. She immediately stood and took it. As soon as their bare arms touched, jolts of excitement began to shoot through him, causing his breathing to quicken and his heart to start hammering wildly. How would it be to lie with her if an innocent touch had such an effect? Stannis bit back a groan at the thought.

He decided to start the tour with Tartarus and the Phlegethon. Both because it was best to get it over with, and also because it might help cool his ardour. It worked like a charm, and had the added benefit of making Sansa cling tightly to him while they were there. Despite her closeness, it was impossible to be too aroused in the desolate pit where the worst and most wretched creatures of the world were kept.

“Must you visit Tartarus often?” Sansa asked with a shudder once they had turned their backs on the pit and the river of fire.

“Thankfully not,” Stannis said, unable to hide the relief in his voice, “the furies look in from time to time and report to me.”

“Do many souls go to Tartarus?”

“No, not many at all. It is rare for a soul to commit a crime worthy of Tartarus. It is more common for them to go to the Fields of Punishment.” Stannis pointed towards the wastelands where shades of wrongdoers wandered in despair.

“I understand. Is that where most souls go?”

Stannis shook his head and brought them to the Asphodel Meadows. He let go of Sansa so that she might walk around and explore. It was safe for her to do so here.

“Most souls come here,” he explained and gestured to the shades that drifted about peacefully.

“It’s very quiet,” Sansa said, bending to let her fingertips touch a ghostly asphodel bloom.

“The souls drink from the Lethe before they come here. They forget their identities and find peace.”

“Are they… happy, then?”

“They are neither happy nor unhappy. They simply are.”

Sansa nodded solemnly at his explanation and observed a shade as it drifted by. She reached out to it and Stannis was very surprised to see the shade reach for her in its turn. The very tips of their fingertips touched and Stannis swore he heard a sound as if a silver bell had chimed. The shade seemed to lighten in some indescribable way. It looked… purified.

 _How had she done that?_ Stannis had touched many shades throughout the years and nothing remotely comparable had ever occurred. It had to be another sign from the fates, he decided, his heart pounding.

Sansa observed the shade she had touched for a while, a small smile playing on her lips. She did not touch another. At length she walked towards him, taking hold of his arm again. He was pleasantly surprised that she would willingly seek such contact.

“I have heard of another place, a place where souls are happy.” Her voice was soft and curious. It did not surprise him that she would want to seek out the brightest place in the Underworld. She was brightness itself. He had seen it when she smiled.

“Yes, Elysium,” he said with a nod, “shall I take you there?”

Sansa’s cheeks went pink with pleasure, and she nodded excitedly.

“It’s _beautiful,_ ” she sighed when they arrived, sinking down to kneel in the grassy field, her fingertips ghosting over the green blades and the flowers reverently. “It’s even more gorgeous than Nysa! I had no idea such a place could exist in the Underworld.”

Stannis did not know what to do with himself. It felt odd to stand ramrod straight as she frolicked in the grass at his feet, but he could not bring himself to sit down in the grass. It did not feel dignified.

“The Elysian Fields are unique, and they are not entirely of the Underworld,” Stannis explained.

An idea struck him. “Perhaps I might place Elysium under your care, should you become my Queen.” It would be very appropriate, he thought. Her kindness and her beauty would make her an ideal ruler of the Elysian Fields. Rhadamanthus wouldn’t mind; he had plenty of other things on his plate.

Sansa looked up at him with a stunned expression. “You - you could do that?” There was a note of awe in her voice that he liked.

He bowed his head magnanimously.

“I’d… I’d like that,” she whispered, tucking a stray strand of hair behind an ear. There were still flowers decorating her copper tresses, looking none the worse for having been pulled from the soil and crushed against bedlinens. Touching any part of her must give the fragile blooms life, he thought idly.

Perhaps if he touched her, it would bring him to life too? In more ways than one…

“What’s that over there?”

Stannis looked where Sansa pointed.

“It’s the Vale of Mourning,” he explained, “souls consumed by unhappy love tend to end up there. Not even the Lethe can lessen their pain. They may not remember the cause, but still they mourn.”

“Oh, how sad.” Sansa looked genuinely moved by the plight of the lovelorn souls, her face becoming a mask of grief.

Stannis privately agreed. He might end up spending some time there if Sansa rejected him. Misery loves company. Not that he would allow her to reject him. He intended for her to accept his suit even if he had to go to considerable lengths to accomplish it.

“Is that the Styx?” Sansa asked after a few moments of contemplative silence. She was looking at the river close by the Vale of Mourning.

“No, that’s the river of wailing, Cocytus.”

“Your kingdom is so vast, my lord,” Sansa said, worrying at her lower lip and hugging herself nervously. She was looking at him, creases marring her brow, obviously at a loss.

“It is, at that,” Stannis agreed, “but it is not so hard to manage. Things are fairly organised.” He did not want Sansa to think that she would be toiling away with no respite in her role as Queen. He would see to it that her duties were light, and he would keep her near him as much as he could.

“How are things organised? What is that you do most days?”

Stannis sighed. It would be hard to answer her questions without simply walking her through the process. He was not quite sure she was up to that quite yet. Not after her fainting spell and Tartarus.

“I will show you tomorrow,” he promised.

Sansa stood up and took his arm again, obviously sensing that it was time they return to his grim palace. He held her close all the way back, and she did not seem to mind. It gave Stannis hope. She was obviously not physically repulsed by him, and she was curious about his realm and how he spent his days. She was clearly still keeping an open mind despite his abrupt, rather rude appearance in her life. It amazed him and made him want to fall at her feet even more than he already did. How could she possibly be as kind as she was beautiful? It should not be possible. No one could be that kind. No one except her.

_The odd pair was so wrapped up in one another and their own thoughts that neither noticed the shade that Sansa had touched in the Asphodel Meadows had followed them and gained entrance to Elysium. Sansa might not have realised the significance of it even if she had noticed, but Stannis most certainly would have. Alas, his vision was clouded due to his obsession with the adolescent goddess in his care._

Stannis pressed his lips to Sansa’s fingers once they had returned to his palace. “I have a few matters that I must attend to now. You may make yourself at home. No room is off limits to you, although I suggest treading with caution should you venture into the lower levels.”

“Where do you usually spend your leisure time, my lord?”

She had to ask him _that?_

The most truthful answer would probably be, ‘in the throne room, brooding.’ He doubted she would like to pass the time in such a fashion, however.

“Sometimes I walk by the fountains,” he said instead. It was true enough. Whenever he became fed up with his throne he liked to stretch his legs by the fountains. The noise of the water was soothing enough, and the scent of the nearby pomegranate trees was usually pleasant.

Stannis ended up showing her the way to the courtyard. He was glad that he did, for he very much enjoyed the look of delight on her features when she saw the fountains and the trees.

“Trees can grow here?” she exclaimed in amazement, “not just in Elysium?”

“They can grow if they are well tended to. The pomegranates should be just about perfect if you want to...” Stannis trailed off. Did she know what would happen if she ate the food of the dead? Had anyone told her? It was common knowledge among the gods, but she was young and sheltered. Perhaps Catelyn had not considered it knowledge worth sharing?

He fought a brief internal war, but his sense of justice won out as it usually did. It was a close call; his libido was unusually ferocious. If she ate his food she would would be irrevocably tied to him, unable to leave him! He would have her for certain! His forever. His _wife._

It would be dishonest. He had already brought her here dishonestly enough. He would not trick her into staying. She would stay of her own free will or not at all.

“Perhaps it would be wise if you did not partake in anything but ambrosia and nectar while you are here,” he warned. It was not a full explanation, but if she chose to ignore his suggestion she was foolish, and foolishness was rarely rewarded.

Sansa nodded seriously.

He kissed her fingers again and reluctantly left her to her own devices. He had some work he needed to do.


	2. Obsidian and Ice

Sansa couldn’t believe she had gone from picking flowers with her friends to being a guest in the Underworld and practically engaged to its ruler. If someone had come up to her yesterday and told her this would happen to her, she would have been horrified.

It was strange, but once she got over the shock of it, it wasn’t so terrible. The Underworld was nothing like she had imagined. Parts of it were pretty awful - she shuddered at the memory of Tartarus - but there were trees, and meadows and fields! There was even a sort of shimmering half-light, though there was no sun. When she looked up, she could she jewels and veins of precious metals sparkling almost like stars.

And there had been that amazing moment she had experienced in the Asphodel Meadows, when she had touched that shade. It had felt like nothing she had experienced before. It had been as if a rush of white light had passed through her, similar to the feeling she got when she encouraged a seed to take root and grow into a magnificent, living plant. Yet it had been different; more powerful and strange. When she closed her eyes she could still hear the silvery bells chiming as they had in that moment when her immortal soul had brushed against that shade.

Sansa did not think she would have wanted to go her entire life without experiencing that moment. It had felt right. _Fated._

She wished she could send a message to Brienne and Arya and let them know that she was relatively safe. They had to be frantic with worry by now! And her poor mother as well! What must they think had happened? Sansa was not entirely sure they had even seen what had occurred. It had all been so sudden…

Sansa attempted to put her worry from her mind. Stannis was not likely to allow her to send a message to anyone, and worrying would not do her any good. Perhaps at the end of the third day she would be able to convince him to allow her to contact her friends.

Ambrosia and nectar had been brought to her as she explored the fountains and the pomegranate groves of the courtyard where Stannis claimed to spend his leisure time. She nibbled at the food and drink of the gods, wishing the whole time that she could sample the ripe, beautiful pomegranates growing all around her. The look Stannis had given her when he had warned her against it stayed her hands, however. He did not seem the type of god who would warn against something for no good reason. She wished he would have explained _why_ it would not be a good idea to eat anything but ambrosia, but she had felt it would be unwise to ask.

Perhaps he would explain it tomorrow.

She was looking forward to the next day. It would be exciting to see how the Underworld was run. She was very interested in what happened to human souls once they shuffled off their mortal coil. She was especially curious about how the souls were judged. Her mother had given her some vague explanation which had always been enough for Sansa, but now she found herself burning to know the details.

Sansa avoided thoughts of what would happen after tomorrow - on the third day. She knew better than to expect that Stannis would ever change his mind about taking her as his wife. The look in his eyes when he watched her was so intense and covetous that it made her want to faint all over again, just as she had fainted when she had first seen it. Of course she had also been distraught by her fear of the phantom that had grabbed her so suddenly and without warning, and horrified by the ground opening up as if to swallow her whole, but it had mostly been the look in his eyes that had caused her to become insensible to the world. It had been like staring into the heart of a dying star; a greedy black hole that would pull every last bit of light from her soul and still hunger for more.

It was frightening to behold his desire for her, but the longer she had spent with him, the more he seemed to be able to control it. When he had kissed her fingers and left, his greed had been checked and his expression and his voice less raw.

Sansa hoped that by the time they were wed he would have gained sufficient control of himself as to not attack or terrorise her in their wedding bed. Her mother had warned her about the gods and their _urges,_ and she had heard stories enough about Robert’s exploits to be wary of his brother.

She had the idea that if Stannis got to know her as a person, and perhaps came to respect her as a goddess and a friend, he would be less inclined to tear her apart in a lustful frenzy. 

A few days of getting to know him would benefit her as well, allowing her to master her fear and get used to the idea of having a husband. It would be much easier to wed a god she had at least spent some time with than a veritable stranger. She already felt more at ease in the dour god’s company, so she supposed her plan was working.

Sansa looked at the nearest fountain, a beautifully carved piece of art, and wondered at the fact that Stannis would spend his free time in such a place. He seemed so serious and sullen! She would not have expected him to enjoy such beautiful and peaceful surroundings. It was much easier to imagine him sitting in a dark and gloomy room, his back straight and his face set in a scowl.

“Greetings, fair lady.”

Sansa turned to look behind her, surprised to see a beautiful woman dressed all in red. The woman had red hair, but it was very different from her own copper locks. It looked like the exact shade of mortal blood. Her eyes were red too, which disturbed Sansa a little.

“Greetings,” Sansa eventually said, remembering her manners.

“I am Melisandre, the goddess of magic, witchcraft, the moon and the night. You are Sansa, daughter of Catelyn, the goddess of spring,” Melisandre introduced herself and stated Sansa’s name, not a hint of a question in her tone.

Sansa nodded politely, wondering whether it would be rude to ask Melisandre what she wanted. As if she had read her mind, Melisandre started to explain why she had sought Sansa’s company.

“I have foreseen that you are to become a powerful Queen, my lady. I wish to offer you my congratulations and my services. Should you find yourself in need of a spell or a potion, I would be happy to assist you as I sometimes assist Stannis. You need only call my name.” Melisandre bowed deeply, but there was something in her tone and in her body language that Sansa did not quite trust.

“Thank you, you are most kind,” Sansa said graciously, her polite smile never wavering.

“I know Stannis is often busy at this time of day. Would you like some company, my lady? I am willing to be your guide while Stannis is otherwise engaged. I am sure you have a lot of questions.”

Sansa _did_ have a lot of questions, but she thought she ought to talk to Stannis before accepting such an offer. Her instincts were telling her not to trust Melisandre, and her instincts had rarely led her astray.

“That is a generous offer, my lady. I find myself to be quite tired at the moment, however. Perhaps another time?”

Melisandre bowed her head and smiled mysteriously. “As you wish.”

Sansa blinked in amazement when Melisandre faded from view, dissolving into smoke and flame.

Suddenly tired, Sansa decided to look for the chamber where she had woken up. Exploring the palace would have to wait. She asked one of the silent, grey-clad servants for directions and was surprised at how quickly she found herself back in the splendid room that was apparently hers. 

Sansa found it difficult to sleep in her chamber full of glittering jewels at first. The hard, sharp stones seemed unfriendly and not at all comforting and natural like the flowers she usually surrounded herself with. Eventually she figured out that if she focused on their bright colours she could convince herself they were just an odd sort of flower, really. It put her mind at ease and allowed her to drift off at long last.

As a goddess she did not require as much sleep as mortals, which was just as well for Stannis roused her mere hours after she had found rest.

“My lady,” he quietly whispered, “you wished to understand how my realm is organised.”

Sansa rose up and asked for assistance with her dress and her hair. Stannis left her with a few timid maids to see to her needs. The maids brought her chitons of the finest, richest fabrics, golden sandals and fabulous brooches, bracelets, rings and necklaces. Sansa chose a fine silk sapphire-blue chiton but did not feel at ease with decorating herself with the jewellery. The maids insisted on decorating her hair, however. Her crown of flowers was replaced with diamond studded combs once her hair had been brushed until it gleamed and arranged in a pleasing fashion.

Her reflection in the looking glass surprised her. She had rarely had occasion to view herself in such a contraption; still pools usually serving her well enough. Sansa thought she looked quite beautiful in the lovely gown with the diamonds sparkling like little stars in her hair. It was the expression on her face that surprised her the most. There was no fear in her eyes as she had half expected. Neither could she see child-like wonder. She looked… older. Perhaps a little guarded. Her cheeks pinkened as she admired herself and imagined what Stannis would think. She wished to please him, although she did not wish to please him over much. Driving him to distraction would not do. She needed him to hear her when she spoke and understand that she was a real person with feelings that ought not be hurt.

Sansa took a steadying breath before she opened the door and joined Stannis. He was standing ramrod straight as ever, with his hands clasped tightly behind his back. His fathomless dark eyes widened almost imperceptibly when he saw her.

“That colour suits you well,” he said after he had stared at her for a while.

It did not sound as if he were accustomed to paying compliments. His tone was more apologetic than flattering, and he was now staring fixedly at a point a little above her head and to the left instead of meeting her eyes properly.

Sansa was a little charmed despite herself.

“Where are we to go first, my lord?” she asked curiously.

“I thought we might meet Davos down at the bank of the Acheron. He usually arrives regularly with souls that have been able to pay his price.”

Stannis offered his arm and Sansa took it without hesitation. They walked in silence for a while before Sansa dared bring up her meeting with Melisandre.

“She has her uses,” Stannis told her vaguely.

“Yes, but should I accept her offer?” Sansa asked, worrying at her bottom lip and wrinkling her forehead, “do you think it would be safe?”

“You are under my protection. She would not dare harm you. None would dare.” His voice had turned to ice, and it was as if shadows had gathered around him, making him appear darker and more imposing. Sansa was reminded that Stannis had fought in ancient wars, taking on Titans and terrifying enemies. He was not someone to trifle with. She had been told the stories, but seeing him now helped her really _understand._

“Oh,” she breathed, feeling a little overwhelmed.

Stannis made a visible effort to rein himself in when he saw her expression. Sansa could feel the tension dissipate as she saw the lines of his face soften. The shadows surrounding him melted away as if they had never been there. _Had her heart been beating so fast this whole time?_

She met his eyes bravely, trying to calm herself down. “I will not worry over my safety, then.”

“Good,” he said decisively, nodding once.

They had reached the bank of the Acheron and Stannis was looking into the misty darkness, searching for the ferryman.

Sansa knew all about Davos the ferryman. Hardworking and scrupulously fair; he was the only recourse should one wish to cross into Stannis’ realm. Only Podrick could cross the Acheron at will without resorting to the ferry. She wondered if she had already been aboard Davos’ boat. She had been unconscious for most of her journey to the Underworld, so she did not know.

“There he is now,” Stannis said, pointing to a shadowy figure, moving slowly nearer.

Sansa watched with interest as the ferry came into clearer view. Davos was a bearded man with serious eyes. He had both deep laugh lines and deep frown lines. Sansa thought he might be the sort of man who might make one laugh or act very stern, depending on his mood.

Davos was ferrying two souls, they looked frightened and subdued. One was only a child, the other was older. Not decrepit, but at least ten years past their prime.

The souls stepped timidly from the ferry to the ground, looking about in awe, thought they kept their eyes averted from Stannis and her as they should. It was not respectful to gaze upon gods without their express leave.

“Davos, I’d like you to meet Lady Sansa, the goddess of spring. She will be my guest for today and tomorrow. If she is amenable, she will then become my wife and Queen.”

Sansa thought it was strange to hear it stated so calmly. Her entire fate summed up in so few words!

Davos bowed deeply. “I’m pleased to meet you, my lady.”

“Likewise,” Sansa replied politely, nodding at him in acknowledgement.

“What brings you to the shore of the Acheron?” Davos asked curiously.

“We have come to meet these two souls. I wish to show Sansa how they will be judged and settled in the appropriate area of the Underworld,” Stannis explained.

“Well, that saves me having to give them directions,” Davos said with a wry grin, “I should be getting back, I think there are a few more paying customers waiting.”

Stannis nodded solemnly and Sansa stopped herself from waving cheerfully in order to give Davos a similarly understated nod.

“Follow us,” Stannis commanded the two souls and led Sansa towards a handsome building surrounded by intricately carved columns and statues.

Inside was a vast, gleaming chamber. It was filled with bright, soothing light and at its centre were three identical raised seats. It was empty except for the occupants of the three seats.

“Minos, Rhadamanthus, Aeacus,” Hades acknowledged each man in turn, “this is Sansa, goddess of spring. She is my honoured guest. I wish her to observe your work.”

The three men stood up and bowed deeply to Stannis and Sansa.

“Go forth and meet your judges,” Stannis said to the soul of the little child. He nudged Sansa and the two of them moved to stand a little to the side, so they would not get in the way as they observed.

The child was clearly frightened, but walked to stand in front of the three judges.

“You are an innocent,” proclaimed Aeacus, “may you find peace and happiness in the Elysian Fields.”

Minos and Rhadamanthus nodded in agreement.

“Have the child wait, we will take both souls to drink from the Lethe once you have judged the other,” Stannis said authoritatively.

The soul of the innocent child stood aside to allow the older soul to take its turn in front of the judges.

“You lived a decent life. You were kind and just and a good parent. You gave back to your community and treated other people with respect for the most part,” Rhadamanthus said and paused for a moment. “However, you were unfaithful in your marriage and never owned up to it. You never made amends for it, either.”

The soul bowed its head in shame.

“The soul should go to the Fields of Punishment,” Aeacus said coldly.

“I do not think the soul has sinned greatly enough for such a fate,” Rhadamanthus objected, “let it go to the Asphodel Meadows instead.”

They both turned to look to Minos.

“I agree with Rhadamanthus, the soul should go to the Asphodel Meadows,” Minos said after a moment’s contemplative silence.

The three judges sat back at that, faces blank and curiously empty. It was almost as if having souls to judge had brought them to life, and now that they had completed their task they became still as stone.

Sansa was relieved that the soul had not been sentenced to the Fields of Punishment. Infidelity was a sin, but Sansa could think of many worse things. She did not think a soul should be punished eternally if they had mostly led a good life and only made relatively minor mistakes.

“Come, we will lead the souls to the Lethe,” Stannis said quietly.

As they walked Sansa wondered aloud whether the Lethe would erase her memories if she were to drink from it.

“It would,” Stannis answered simply.

“They’d be gone forever?” Sansa asked in surprise, “there would be no way to get them back?”

“You could get them back by drinking from the pool named for Mnemosyne,” Stannis explained patiently.

“But how would I remember to do that?”

“You’d need someone else to help you, most likely.”

“Oh, yes. That makes sense.”

“I find that it takes less effort to simply abstain from drinking the waters of the Lethe.”

Sansa felt the corners of her lips lifting. It wasn’t that Stannis had said something terribly amusing, it was more the dry delivery of his words that made Sansa want to smile.

“Yes, my lord,” she said seriously, trying not to betray her thoughts.

It was strange to see the change that the waters of the Lethe wrought in the two souls. It was as if the light behind their eyes faded; as if _everything_ about the bright souls faded. They still had their discerning features, but they became hollow and empty of everything that made them an individual. They were blank slates now.

Stannis and Sansa guided the older soul to the Asphodel Meadows where it joined the other shades in wandering aimlessly. Sansa looked around for the shade she had touched without really expecting to see it. There were so many shades and they moved about constantly! Still, she could not help casting about for it though she did not find it.

Stannis led the way to Elysium and Sansa put the soul she had touched from her mind. She was excited to see whether the soul of the child would look happy when it saw the Elysian Fields.

The child did not look precisely happy when they arrived; the look that appeared on its face was more of contentment and peace. Sansa was glad to see it. She had not come into very much contact with mortals since she had been born, but she cared for the mortals that sent her and her mother their offerings, and wished them well.

Overcome with the need to make a gesture of goodwill, Sansa got to her knees in front of the child’s soul and spread her arms wide. The soul drifted closer and Sansa closed her arms around the small shade, hugging it to her. The shades were not quite solid, but as she had found out yesterday it was still possible to touch them. She wondered if she would hear the silvery chimes again and feel that wonderful rush of white light.

Half-prepared for that lovely sensation as she was, she was doubly shocked and appalled when the child’s soul vanished as soon as she closed her arms around it.

“Stannis!” she gasped in alarm, “where did it go? What happened? Ought I not have touched it?” she continued frantically.

Stannis was staring at her intently, his face an inscrutable mask. He held a hand out to her in order to help her back to her feet, and she thought she had better take it. She watched him anxiously once she was standing, more and more questions on her mind. Instead of voicing them she waited with bated breath for him to answer her first three.

“It has occasionally happened in the past that a soul from Elysium is sent back to the world of the living. It is called rebirth, but it is very rare.” Stannis spoke quietly and seriously and he was still looking very intently at her, his eyes boring into her. It was as if he was searching for the answer to some great mystery. “Usually a soul will have spent a very long time in Elysium before such an event can take place.”

Sansa swallowed nervously, tucking a stray lock of hair behind an ear. Her brief hope that it had simply been a coincidence that the child’s soul had been reborn just as she touched it was extinguished.

“Do you think I somehow caused it to be reborn before its time?” she asked tentatively.

Stannis had stopped staring at her in favour of looking around thoughtfully and his eyes widened slightly as he spotted a shade that was approaching the two of them.

“Sansa, isn’t that the shade you touched in the Asphodel Meadows yesterday?” he asked, his voice betraying a hint of incredulity.

A touch annoyed that he had changed the subject instead of answering her question, Sansa turned around to look in the direction Stannis was looking in.

“It is!” she gasped, but she fell silent when she saw the solemn expression Stannis now wore.

She was sure it was the same soul as she would never forget its face. Yesterday’s experience had been completely unique and therefore very memorable. The shade had almost reached them, and they watched in silence until it was an arm’s length away.

“How have you managed to leave the Asphodel Meadows and gain entry to Elysium?” Stannis asked the shade commandingly when it came to a halt before them.

The shade looked at Sansa and bowed its head.

“Her touch cleansed you of the minor sins that prevented your entry?” Stannis asked, as if to clarify words that Sansa had not heard spoken.

The shade bowed its head again.

Stannis muttered something that Sansa was not quite sure she had heard correctly. It had sounded a little like ‘fate’ or ‘fated’.

“You may go,” Stannis dismissed the soul. The soul inched closer to Sansa instead of leaving, so Stannis directed a hostile glare at it. The shade began to drift away, clearly intimidated.

Sansa felt a little overwhelmed at the knowledge that her touch had somehow allowed a soul to traverse from one area of the Underworld to another. She hadn’t had the slightest inkling that she could do something like that!

“It appears that you have a gift that goes beyond giving life to plants and flowers,” Stannis said after a long silence.

Sansa watched his face nervously for any sign of censure, but she could not tell whether he was upset with her or not. “Is my gift not to your liking, my lord?” she squeaked.

“On the contrary, it seems the fates intend for you to serve a vital function in the Underworld. Your power is remarkable, as a Queen’s power should be. I am... I am well pleased.”

Sansa felt as if a knot in her stomach had dissolved and she breathed a sigh of relief. Not only was Stannis not upset with her, he was pleased! Pleasing him with her gifts as a goddess rather than with her looks or her attire gave Sansa a curious feeling of accomplishment. She smiled brightly, showing her pride and delight.

Stannis seemed transfixed by her for a moment, a familiar longing in his eyes, but then he swallowed and got himself under control. He was getting better at it, Sansa noticed.

“To answer your earlier question: yes, I think your touch sent the child’s soul back to the mortal world. It was already a pure, innocent soul so your touch could not further cleanse it of sin,” Stannis said thoughtfully. “Instead of cleansing it, you caused its rebirth into the world above.” He looked at her intently, and there seemed to be a great deal of depth to his gaze. “I think I will rename you,” he said with a decisive nod, “you are now to be known as Sansa: Goddess of Rebirth.”

Sansa felt a thrilling, electric sensation run down her spine at his pronouncement and the fine hairs that covered her arms stood on end. Goddess of Rebirth! It sounded so _right._ She beamed at Stannis, feeling rather surprised at how much joy it was possible to feel in the Underworld - a place Sansa had always imagine to be completely devoid of happiness.

Her feelings needed to be expressed with more than a smile, however, so she decided to give Stannis a token of appreciation in the form of a kiss on the cheek. She gave him a nervous look after she retreated, hoping the innocent peck would not cause him to stop treating her like a gentleman ought treat a lady. She had aimed for his cheekbone under one of his eyes, where his beard did not get in the way and was surprised at how cool and smooth his skin felt under her lips.

Her worries that he might do something untoward were unfounded. He simply stared at her, seemingly stunned and baffled. 

In a daze he brought a hand up to touch the skin she had brushed with her lips, but when he noticed what he was doing and that she was looking, he quickly dropped it again and cleared his throat. Sansa had managed to suppress her own urge to touch her tingling lips with her fingertips -- for the moment.

“Shall I show you my throne room?” he asked, obviously keen to draw her attention to something other than his mild embarrassment. Sansa was quick to nod in agreement and the two deities left Elysium, unaware of the whispering shades they left behind. Before the night was out, every soul in the Elysian Fields knew about the goddess of rebirth and her powers. It was the most exciting piece of gossip since Achilles showed up unexpectedly, cursing his heel and complaining that he had never been meant to die.

The throne room was both exactly what Sansa had expected and an utter surprise at the same time.

There was a hush to the room that Sansa found hard to explain. It put her in mind of very early mornings when everything was covered in mist and no birds dared disturb the silence. Everything seemed shrouded in shadow, though there were huge windows to the outside, overlooking the river Styx and… the Lethe? Sansa couldn’t be quite sure. The most prominent object in the room was obviously the throne. It was of the blackest obsidian, highly polished and all sharp angles and pointed edges.

The utter surprise was next to the obsidian throne: a second throne! It seemed to be made of ice, though Sansa thought it must be polished glass, or mirrors or possibly diamonds? She would need to step closer to find out.

Stannis noticed her looking. “Does it please you, my lady?” he asked, sounding almost anxious. “I made it for you last night.”

“You did not have to…” Sansa trailed off when she caught a glimpse of the forlorn, disappointed look on his face. “Thank you, it’s beautiful.” He immediately seemed less dejected. 

Feeling a little nervous and unsure, Sansa thought she might as well investigate her new throne. Perhaps it ought to irk her that Stannis had presumed to make her a throne before the decision to make her Queen had officially been made, but somehow it did not really bother her. After all, she was a _goddess._ As a goddess and his esteemed guest he could hardly offer her a seat on the floor!

“Might I have a closer look?”

“By all means.”

Sansa walked up to the two thrones, examining them both as well as she could without lingering for hours. Now that she was closer to the obsidian throne she could see that parts of the polished surface were not as smooth as she had originally thought. There were carvings! They did not cover every inch of the throne, rather they were tastefully sparse. She thought the figures carved into the obsidian might depict some manner of story, but she was not certain.

The ice throne was curious, Sansa thought. Her first impression that it was made of glass proved correct upon closer inspection, but shards of mirrors, diamonds and sapphires had been fused into the glass, making it sparkle just as ice would in the cold light of winter. It was a masterpiece and Sansa could hardly believe Stannis had made it in a single evening.

“It’s so like ice, my lord.” There was a hint of a question in her tone. She was curious as to why he had made her such a wintry throne.

“To contrast the fire of your hair, my lady.”

Sansa blushed. Stannis still did not look entirely at ease with paying her such compliments, and he was not meeting her eyes. Perhaps he was worried about how she would receive his words?

“No one has made me anything to equal it,” she said softly, stroking the smooth surface of the armrest.

Stannis puffed up a little at that, standing up straighter somehow, his shoulders squaring. Sansa was sure that he was proud of having made something to her liking. She smiled sweetly at him, wanting him to know that both the throne and his words were well received. Had he showed her the throne yesterday, her intent might have been to keep him happy and make sure that nothing she said or did might cause him to feel slighted. This was only a small part of her reason now.

He cleared his throat importantly and began to confidently explain the function of the room.

“This is where I judge those souls that Minos, Rhadamanthus and Aeacus are unable to agree on, and where I devise punishments for those who are to be sent to Tartarus. This is also where I receive visitors.”

Sansa nodded in understanding, wondering as she did whether Stannis received very many visitors.

“Podrick drops by occasionally, but I’m afraid other visitors are few and far between.” It was as if Stannis had read her mind. “Most immortals prefer to revel atop Olympus and do not seek my company.” There was a bitter tone to his voice, and his expression had soured. Sansa felt a pang of sympathy for the dark god and his lonely existence.

“What are your other duties?” Sansa asked, both to distract him from his bitter thoughts and out of curiosity.

“I make sure that no souls escape, although Cerberus has lessened my workload considerably when it comes to chasing down rogue souls.”

“Souls attempt to escape?” Sansa was surprised. She had never heard of a soul escaping from the Underworld.

“It has been known to happen. None have yet been successful, of course.”

Having shown her the throne room, Stannis next took her to see the golden chariot he possessed, drawn by four magnificent winged steeds, and explained that he used the chariot to chase down wandering spirits. Sansa was delighted by the beautiful animals and asked if she might brush their black coats. Stannis was surprised at her desire to do so and blurted that it was servant work.

“I realise that. I doubt I’d like to do it every day as your servants must, but I should like to try it.”

He found her a brush, handing it over with an unreadable expression on his face. She thanked him prettily and set about brushing one of the handsome creatures.

“Start at the neck,” Stannis directed, “use straight flicking motions, yes - like that.”

It was Sansa’s turn to be surprised. Stannis knew how to do this? Hadn’t he just said it was servant work?

Sansa didn’t question him about it, quickly becoming absorbed in her work and charmed by the calm, strong presence of the mount. The horse was staying very still for her and Sansa was sure he was enjoying her ministrations.

“Do they have names?” she asked, moving to the next steed after a while.

“Orphnaeus, Aethon, Nyctaeus and Alastor,” Stannis said, pointing each horse out in its turn. He had been observing her silently for a while, but had just picked up a second brush and started working on Nyctaeus. Sansa had started on Alastor, but was grooming Orphnaeus now. She was working much slower now that Stannis had started to brush Nyctaeus. She kept pausing her own work in order to observe Stannis and his swift, economic movements. His hands were sure and practised and Sansa was certain he did this often. He was frowning slightly in concentration, but it did not seem as if he was displeased.

Stannis was quick to move from Nyctaeus to Aethon, and he finished brushing Aethon at about the same time she was finally done with Orphnaeus.

“Would you consider joining me in the fountain courtyard for some ambrosia?” Stannis asked tentatively as he observed her wash her hands.

“That sounds lovely,” she said sincerely, “although if you don’t mind I’d like to wash up properly first, and change into something fresh. I’m afraid my lovely chiton smells strongly of horse now!”

“I shall follow your example, my lady.”

Stannis escorted her all the way to her chamber and called for maids to assist her with her bath and a change of clothes. When he left her Sansa felt a peculiar fluttering sensation inside her belly; she had enjoyed her day with him and she was looking forward to seeing him again unexpectedly much. She did not think it was only because he was her only company in the vast Underworld; she could have sought Melisandre out if company was all she wanted. No, Sansa had enjoyed her time with Stannis, even though he still intimidated her a little. He was not nearly as frightening as he had been at first, when all she knew of him was his fearsome reputation and the hungry look in his eyes when he looked at her. 

His fearsome reputation did not seem so frightening now that she knew that he liked to walk around groves of pomegranate trees and look at fountains. Additionally, it was difficult to be afraid of Stannis after watching him diligently brush a horse, taking great pains to avoid hurting the creature. As for his hungry gaze... She now knew that he saw more than just her beauty when he looked at her. He saw her gifts as a goddess and he had honoured her with a new name to match the full extent of her power. He had built her a throne to rival Cersei’s throne at Robert’s side on Olympus, and he had treated her respectfully… if one did not count the fact that he considered it necessary to abduct her in order to get to know her. The longing in his eyes still caused her stomach to clench up, but she thought it was no longer due to fear. It was more akin to _excitement._

It was exciting to be desired by a powerful god.

But did she desire him?

Did she desire to be his Queen?

Did it _matter_ what she desired?

With all of these thoughts running through her head, Sansa allowed the maids to assist her in disrobing and finding her way to her bath. Sansa sighed as she sank into the warm, scented water; it was so soothing that she had to fight to keep from drifting off to sleep.


	3. Wedding

Catelyn was _furious._ Someone had _dared_ to take her daughter away from her. According to Arya and Brienne it had happened so suddenly that they had not been able to do anything to prevent it, nor had they been able to see the perpetrator. The ground seemed to have simply swallowed her poor Sansa!

For two days Catelyn had searched Nysa high and low, questioning every Oceanid, every nymph and every creature that could be induced to speak. None could give her the information she sought and Catelyn became more desperate with each hour that passed. She was ignoring her duties completely, determined she would find her daughter before resuming her natural role. The mortals could go a few days without her blessing their crops and making sure the harvest would be bountiful.

On the third day Catelyn was certain that Sansa was nowhere to be found on Nysa, and she was certain that no one on Nysa knew where she had gone. Catelyn was left with no choice. She must go to Olympus and discuss this with the sun god, Jaime, for he would most definitely have seen everything that had occurred.

Catelyn would have liked to avoid speaking with any of the Olympian gods - Arya and Brienne excluded - as she did not want to draw attention to her daughter where Robert might hear and take notice. Robert was notorious for his interest in young, innocent and beautiful girls. But Jaime was Catelyn’s only recourse, and it was possible that the fact that Sansa was missing might be enough to protect her from Robert’s interest.

Catelyn found Jaime easily enough. He could usually be found in Cersei’s vicinity when he was not fulfilling his duties. Cersei was indeed nearby, but she ignored Catelyn, choosing to focus her attention on muttering to herself about sending a crab to distract ‘him’. Catelyn pitied the hapless individual who had roused her ire.

“Jaime, may I have a word?”

“Of course, my lady.”

Catelyn and Jaime walked together towards a table laden with ambrosia and nectar, well out of Cersei’s earshot. Catelyn decided to ask right out and waste no more time than necessary.

“Did you see what happened to my daughter, Sansa, three days ago? She was picking flowers in a field in Nysa and went to look at her reflection in a still pool of water; before she reached it she disappeared. How did it happen? Please, Jaime, I must know!” Catelyn grabbed at Jaime’s hand as he had been about to reach for some ambrosia, clasping it desperately and giving him a beseeching look.

“I did see the scene you describe, for my eye is always drawn to beauty. Your daughter is growing into a stunning goddess, my lady, you should be proud!” Jaime complimented smoothly, adding his free hand to their odd handshake, patting the back of her tense hand gently.

“Please!” Catelyn breathlessly begged, “please tell me where my daughter is!”

“I am afraid you will not like the answer,” Jaime hedged.

“It does not matter! I must know!” she cried.

Jaime blew out a breath and looked as if he were searching for the right words. Eventually he spoke. “Mine was not the only eye your daughter drew that day. The Lord of the Underworld happened upon your daughter, wearing his helmet of invisibility, and spirited her away to his kingdom through a cleft he opened in the earth. I saw that it was him for a brief moment when he removed the helmet just before the cleft closed. Sansa appeared to have fainted in his arms.”

Catelyn gasped, horrified at these news. Lord Stannis had abducted her daughter! She could scarcely believe it! She could not remember the dour god taking an interest in so much as a wood nymph from the time they had been children. She had never even thought to worry about protecting her child from _him_ , of all gods. Not that she could have done anything to ward her daughter against Stannis. He was a powerful old god, rivaling even Robert, though Robert was perhaps the brawnier of the two. But what Stannis lacked in brute strength and power, he made it for with cunning, fierce intelligence, and a ruthless single-mindedness that bordered on obsession. He was a king in his own right, a ruler of one of the three realms. Challenging him would not be a simple matter of pulling rank as it might have been if he had been a lesser god.

If he had taken Sansa it meant that he had finally decided to take a wife. Taking her back would not be easy, but Catelyn had to _try._ How frightened her child must be! Sansa was made for the sun; her hair shone so brightly in the beautiful light! Hiding her away in the Underworld to waste away at Stannis’ side would be a grave injustice. Anyone with half a brain would surely understand that!

“I don’t understand,” Robert said with a baffled expression on his face, “why would I order Stannis to give Sansa back?”

Catelyn closed her eyes and counted to ten. “He did not go through the appropriate channels! Surely he must seek your blessing, and Cersei’s, before taking a wife?” Catelyn glanced at Cersei’s empty throne, making sure to mention her as she was after all the goddess of matrimony; ironic is that may be.

“But that’s all right then, I gave him my blessing to take a wife eons ago!” Robert boomed, looking pleased that the matter could now be put to rest.

“What?” Catelyn exclaimed impolitely, startled and affronted.

“Yes, I promised him any goddess he desired. As long as she was unattached and not sworn to eternal chastity. You should be honoured that he chose your daughter as his bride. She will be Queen!”

Catelyn shook her head, mute and horrified. It would do her no good to reason with Robert. He would never be able to see the injustice of what had happened to Sansa. In his eyes Stannis had been perfectly within his rights to simply pluck Sansa from the meadow he had found her in. Just as a mortal would rip a beautiful flower away from its roots, away from the soil that nurtured it, taking it away from the sun and the rain, hiding it away in a shady dwelling place until it withered and died…

Choking back a sob, Catelyn asked for the one thing she thought Robert might grant her.

“As a mother I would still feel more at ease if Podrick could be sent to bring me news of my daughter’s new situation. Would you grant me this small favour, my king?”

“I don’t see the harm in that, I will ask him to go as soon as he returns from his current errand.”

“Thank you, I am most grateful. I will be close at hand, anxiously awaiting news. Please have me summoned at once when Podrick returns from the Underworld.”

“It will be done.”

Catelyn bowed deeply to her king and retreated from the throne room

***

Sansa’s evening with Stannis had been just as surprisingly pleasant as the day had been. He did not frighten her even once, even though he told her tales from the early days, when the Titans ruled, and how fiercely he and his brothers had been forced to fight for their current positions. Stannis had a good voice for storytelling and Sansa had found herself hanging on his every word, fascinated by the age of the Titans; an age her mother always refused to tell her of, saying it was not for delicate ladies to speak of such matters.

Sansa had gasped when Stannis had revealed that his father had swallowed him and his brother Renly at one point, and that Robert had only escaped due to their mother’s timely and clever intervention. Thankfully Robert had rescued his brothers, but Stannis had been forever altered by the experience.

“Renly and I were near starved when Robert finally set us free. I was a shadow of my former self, my body was practically skeletal; my skin stretched eerily over the bone, my muscles weak and my hair falling out. It was the most trying period of my immortal life.”

Sansa had been sympathetic, although she had been careful not to touch Stannis or encourage him in any such way. She privately thought that his past explained much about his demeanour and felt that she understood him much better for knowing of the harrowing trials he had faced and the difficult battles he had won against all odds due to his tenacity and his superior military tactics.

Stannis hadn’t said it in so many words, but Sansa also gathered that he felt very slighted by the other gods and goddesses, overlooked and unappreciated. She could understand why, but she hoped he would overcome these feelings at some point. He seemed to have allowed them to fester for far too long, and it was obviously causing him a great deal of pain. Sansa could not fathom allowing herself to ever grow so bitter, but she supposed she had never gone through anything like Stannis had gone through; her abduction notwithstanding.

They had stayed up quite late, but eventually Sansa had requested some time to rest in her chamber. Stannis had escorted her there without showing a trace of reluctance, though his eyes had flashed with desire when they had reached her door. Sansa had felt a peculiar sensation of heat rushing through her at the sight. The sensation had faded when he left, but it had still kept her awake for a long time, tossing and turning in her bed, unable to find peace.

Today was likely her last day as an unwed goddess.

She still did not know the answers to the questions she had asked herself as she had bathed the night before, but she felt certain that whether she desired it or not, she would become Stannis’ queen.

Perhaps it _was_ her fate. Her powers certainly seemed to indicate that she had a place and an important role to play in the Underworld. She wondered if part of her role would be to heal Stannis of his bitter disposition. Sansa wished with all of her heart that she could help him overcome his resentment of the other deities as she could not imagine spending eternity stewing in such negative emotions. It also occurred to her that he would be a much more pleasant husband if he were not resentful and bitter all the time.

Sansa still found herself wishing that she might speak to her mother before she was to be wed. It would comfort her greatly to be able to reassure her mother that she was safe and unharmed. She could not imagine how her mother must be suffering in her unexplained absence!

Stannis found her garbed in a chiton the colour of midnight, her hair decorated with ribbons of gold, and a solemn expression on her face.

“I thought you might enjoy a ride in the chariot today, my lady.”

Sansa brightened at the idea. She had so liked the winged steeds they had tended to the day before and she was very curious about what it would be like to ride in a chariot pulled by such magnificent creatures.

It turned out to be a perfectly thrilling way to spend the first half of the day, and Sansa could not remember feeling so exhilarated in her life. Flying was like nothing else! Taking off had been particularly exciting, giving her a swooping feeling in the pit of her stomach, almost as if it had been left on the ground when her body was taking off. Seeing the Underworld from above had been unexpectedly interesting, too. The Asphodel Meadows had seemed to give off a misty glow when viewed from above, a sharp contrast with the black abyss that was Tartarus. Elysium had looked like a bright, shining oasis. It was the most beautiful part of the Underworld by far. However, it was not the only beautiful place in the Stannis’ vast kingdom. Seeing the rivers from above was undeniably pretty. The Styx was particularly gorgeous, its waters a deep periwinkle blue. The Lethe was difficult to spot and seemed to be shrouded in mist. Stannis flew low over the Acheron, startling Davos a little as he ferried a few souls across and making Sansa laugh and cry out with excitement. Even the Phlegethon looked mesmerising when viewed from a distance; great tongues of flame dancing and flashing attractively at its surface.

Stannis took her on a tour of the palace next, showing her many impressive chambers and galleries. Sansa was particularly impressed by a long room that featured tapestries, statues, vases, frescoes, paintings and all manner of art that depicted the images and histories of the gods, everything from time immemorial to the present day.

“They are replicas of every piece of art that has ever been or ever will be dedicated to the gods, be it created by mortal or immortal hands,” Stannis explained as they made their way through the seemingly endless gallery.

“I could stay in here for days and never run out of art to admire!” Sansa exclaimed, feeling entranced.

“That is true,” Stannis said with a nod that indicated he had practical experience.

Sansa had just paused to admire a particularly fine painting depicting the birth of Margaery, the goddess of love, when a servant made its way to Stannis’ side, whispering something that Sansa did not hear to his master.

“It seems a mortal has come to seek an audience with me,” Stannis told her, his voice neutral.

“Would you like me to accompany you to the throne room?” Sansa offered, though she would have been happy to stay in the art gallery for much longer. But she reasoned that she would have time enough to return to the gallery when she was Queen, so she did not feel resentful when Stannis accepted her offer.

Once they had taken to their thrones - Sansa was surprised to find how comfortable hers was - the great doors opened to allow a beautiful young man to enter. He carried a lyre and wore a determined, yet deferential, expression on his face.

When he reached them he threw himself to his knees in front of the two deities, averting his eyes and praising them just as he should. Sansa supposed the servants must have told him to expect her there as he did not seem surprised by her presence at Stannis’ side.

“My esteemed lord and lady, I am Jon Snow and I have come before you today to beg for the life of my lady love, Ygritte. On the very day we were wed she was pursued by a Satyr that wished her ill. She fought him off bravely, but the fates were cruel and an arrow from a young archer’s bow hit her instead of the beast it was intended for, sending her to your realm,” Jon Snow said, addressing them with the utmost respect. His voice had a musical quality to it, and his words sounded very well. “I wish for her to be returned to me so that we might attempt to live our lives together as we had intended.”

“As you said yourself, it was her fate to come to my kingdom. I have never released a soul in the manner you wish me to, with its memories intact, giving it a second chance at life. If her soul was innocent of evil she will enjoy eternal bliss in the Elysian Fields and perhaps she will be reborn one day. Let that be enough.”

“Please! My lord, my lady, I only ask that you listen to my lament and consider my request. If my music is unable to persuade you, I will leave and never bother you again.”

Sansa was intrigued by Jon Snow’s passion for his lady love, and keen to listen to him play the lyre he had brought with him. Sansa had always enjoyed music.

“Let us hear him play,” she said, giving Stannis an imploring look. Stannis looked slightly irritated, but seemed willing to humour her, if not the mortal.

“Very well, play us your music, mortal.”

Jon Snow stood up to play and what followed was the sweetest music Sansa had ever heard in her life. It defied description and awoke feelings in her breast that had a scope to them that Sansa had never even imagined. Long before Jon Snow had finished his song, Sansa had tears in her eyes. She felt as if every single one of the fine hairs on her skin was raised to its fullest extent when the mortal hit notes that were clearer and more beautiful than even the silvery bell chimes she had heard when she had touched the soul in the Asphodel Meadows. Chills ran up and down her spine as the mortal described his despair, and her breath hitched when he sang of his all-encompassing love for the woman he had lost.

When Jon Snow finished his song, Sansa looked at Stannis and was pleased to see that even he looked touched.

“Your lament was indeed a moving piece of music, mortal,” Stannis began after a brief stretch of silence, “however, it would go against the laws of nature for me to allow a soul to escape my kingdom in the way you desire.”

Sansa was alarmed. Stannis intended to do nothing for this sweet young man? After he had made such beautiful music? She had to try to persuade him to do _something._ She felt she owed it to the mortal who had come all this way and shown such devotion.

“Please, my lord,” she said quietly, placing a hand delicately over one of Stannis’, “please do something for this young man and his Ygritte. I beg of you… as a wedding gift.” Sansa gazed at him through lowered lashes, blushing slightly at her implied acquiescence to their union.

Stannis gave her a surprised, heated look. For a moment she could see the greedy black holes again, and she forced herself to maintain eye contact and not let his hungry gaze intimidate her. She would have ended up married to him no matter what. It cost her nothing to agree to it a little early, and it might give the beautiful young man a second chance at love. She had to try.

“My intended has asked me to accede to your wishes, mortal,” Stannis said at length, turning his piercing gaze on the young man, “We are to wed this evening and I find myself in a generous mood.”

“Thank you my lord,” Jon Snow exclaimed, bowing to Stannis. He then threw himself to his knees in front of Sansa and sang her praises. “I am forever in your debt, my most gracious, most beautiful lady!”

Sansa felt quite flattered, but restrained the urge to beam at the young man. She gave him a dignified nod instead, tightening her grip on Stannis’ hand infinitesimally.

“You will walk back the way you came, mortal. Your lady love will follow in your wake. You will not hear her or sense her in any way, but you have my word that she will be there at your heels. If you turn to look at her before you leave my kingdom you will lose her forever. I do not give second chances. Once you are clear of my realm you may take her in your arms and rejoice.”

“I understand,” Jon Snow said solemnly.

“You may go,” Stannis said, dismissing the young man with a stiff hand gesture.

Jon Snow stood up from the floor, bowed once more, turned, and left.

“I wish to follow him and see how he does,” Sansa said as soon as he was out of earshot. Stannis raised both eyebrows at that, looking at her as if she had expressed a desire to walk on her hands for the rest of the day.

“Whatever for?” he asked, not even bothering to hide his astonishment.

“I am curious as to whether he will be successful,” Sansa explained, “I wish for him to do well, and I think I should like to say a kind word to him if he fails, and congratulate him if he succeeds.”

“As you wish, my lady, but I will accompany you, and when we return we are to be wed,” Stannis said authoritatively.

“Of course, my lord.”

Stannis got his helmet of invisibility and hid Sansa under his himation, making her invisible too. They made much better time than the mortal, stumbling and fighting his way back along a treacherous path - stubbornly keeping his eyes pointed forward only - and waited for him at the entrance he was sure to come to.

Sansa was heartbroken for the beautiful young man when he looked over his shoulder as soon as he crossed the border between the realms. He had looked too soon; Ygritte had not crossed the border yet as he had. They shared one last tender look before Ygritte’s soul vanished and Jon crumpled to the ground, wailing in utter despair.

“Let me go to him,” Sansa asked of her intended, giving him a pleading look.

“Very well,” Stannis sighed, his tone a little disgruntled. He removed his himation from around her form, making her visible once more.

Sansa knelt next to the sobbing youth and put her arms around him tenderly.

“Do not be so distressed Jon Snow. No mortal has come this close to retrieving a soul from Lord Stannis’ kingdom before. You did well, so very very well,” Sansa whispered, letting Jon’s tears soak the front of her chiton.

“I will never see her again!” he sobbed inconsolably.

“There will be other people in your life, other chances at love. They will be different, but they will come. All flowers have their season. It was cruel that your time with Ygritte was so short, but your love shone all the brighter for it,” Sansa spoke in a soothing, comforting tone of voice that she had often heard her mother use.

“She was my one! My only!”

Sansa understood that Jon would not be persuaded to let go of his pain at this time. She wished she could give him a companion that would help ease his loneliness and his pain. Not a woman as it was much too soon for that, but perhaps a familiar... 

To Sansa’s surprise it was as if her desire for an animal had summoned one into being. A great white wolf came loping from the entrance of the Underworld, white as a ghost and eerily red-eyed. As surely as she knew her name she knew that this wolf had come to comfort Jon Snow at her behest. Sansa broke away from Jon and stood up at the wolf’s side. Jon remained kneeling in front of her.

“To ease your sorrow I wish to present you with this familiar. You may name him and keep him at your side always. He will protect you, comfort you, and obey you in all things. Go now and share your gift of music with the world, for I have never heard its like.”

Jon still had tears streaming down his face, but he bowed his head and accepted her gift and her command.

“I must return to my intended now. Goodbye Jon Snow.”

Sansa touched the wolf’s soft coat and signaled for it to join its new master. The animal trotted over to Jon, lying down next to the young man and licking his face tenderly. Sansa smiled at the display, feeling that she had done what she could for the sweet, devoted young mortal. She returned to Stannis’ side, her heart starting to beat faster as she realised he would be taking her as his wife and queen with no further delay. 

The look in his eyes was ravenous.

The hot sensation from the previous night returned to the pit of her stomach, or perhaps it was centered even lower than that. She blushed at the sensation, unable to keep meeting her intended’s gaze. Her breathing was irregular and shallow, making her a little lightheaded. She was grateful for the support of the arm he offered her, and clung to him as they started to make their way back to his palace.

The journey seemed a blur to Sansa. Perhaps it was due to her breathing difficulties or perhaps it was simply because Stannis was moving faster than she had imagined possible -- even for a god. In any case, she was back in her chamber before she had a chance to get her heartbeat and her breathing under control.

“I will send maids to help you get ready,” Stannis said to her at the door, kissing her fingers and her palms several times before taking his leave.

The familiar ritual of bathing, dressing and having her hair brushed and tended to, lulled Sansa into a more peaceful state of being. By the time she was admiring herself in the looking glass she was taking deep, even breaths and her heart was beating steadily in her breast. The heat was still coiling deep within her, however, and nothing she did or thought seemed capable of dismissing the sensation.

Her maids had outdone themselves. She was wearing a peplos made of rich, gold fabric, matching golden sandals, and her hair was curled and piled up artfully, decorated with every manner of jewel in existence. They sparkled and caught the light, the colours of the gemstones playing off her hair beautifully. She looked nothing short of regal, and it helped boost Sansa’s confidence. Becoming a queen would be even harder than it already was if she did not feel that she looked the part.

Once Sansa pronounced herself satisfied with their work they bowed to her and left.

Before Sansa had a chance to wonder what she was expected to do, a grey-clad servant arrived to lead her to the throne room. She followed obediently without making a single sound. Inside her head she was frantic, however, wondering if she was making a huge mistake, if she should have tried to flee when she had been with Jon Snow up in the mortal world, and concerning herself deeply with whether her three days with Stannis had been enough to prevent him from treating her cruelly in their wedding bed.

Most of all she wished her mother was with her. It was frightening to face such a momentous occasion alone and unsupported by her family.

Outside the great doors that lead to the throne room Sansa took a moment to compose herself. Her mother knew nothing of her whereabouts and would not be with her. Wishing for her would do Sansa no good. She would have to be brave and trust that the hours she had spent with Stannis had softened him towards her, making him inclined to treat her with kindness. Making her mind as quiet as she could, Sansa squared her shoulders and lifted her chin proudly, signaling the servant that awaited her command that he should open the doors.

Her eyes widened in surprise as she saw that the room, always so cavernous and empty before, was full to the brim with shades. She could tell that they were the shades of important mortals, for they had bearings that reminded her of Minos, Rhadamanthus and Aeacus. The three of them were present as well, and they stood in places of honour at the foot of the dais on which the thrones were located. Stannis himself stood in front of his obsidian throne, dressed in very fine, flowing black fabric and wearing a heavy-looking golden crown. His eyes had widened at the sight of her, his lips parting slightly as if to let a surprised sound escape. Sansa shivered at the thought, feeling a peculiar mixture of power and helplessness.

The crowd parted to let her pass and she walked steadily towards Stannis. No one was speaking, but it was still as if the room was full of whispers and sighs. It put Sansa in mind of the way the wind stirred the leaves in a forest, and she smiled ever so slightly at the memory.

As she neared the dais, Sansa could see immortals dotted amongst the shades. Melisandre was present, and a few others she did not recognise. She imagined they had to be denizens of the Underworld. Perhaps one was the goddess of the night and one the personification of death? She knew they lived in the Underworld, but she imagined they did not like to mingle. Otherwise Stannis would surely have introduced her to them?

Sansa joined Stannis on the dais, standing in front of her own throne and facing the crowd. She put her thoughts about the other immortals from her mind; it did not matter at the moment.

Minos, Rhadamanthus and Aeacus came to stand in front her and Stannis, all three looking solemn and stately. The three of them started to speak in unison, their words almost a chant.

“Let it be known that our king, Lord Stannis, the Rich One, the Unseen One, Aidoneus, the Ruler of Many, God and King of the Underworld, has selected a bride at last. She is known as Lady Sansa, the Goddess of Rebirth and all will bow to her as she will be the undisputed consort of the king; Queen and Ruler in her own right.”

Minos and Aeacus took small steps back, leaving Rhadamanthus at the front to speak alone.

“Lady Sansa, as the current Ruler of Elysium, I would like to gracefully cede the title to you,” he said, bowing deeply and taking a step back to join Minos and Aeacus.

Sansa looked at Stannis and noticed that he seemed to have _grown_ and she was certain that he was giving off waves of power, causing the shades to become restless and intimidated. The room became silent as a grave when he spoke.

“I declare that from this day until the end of days Sansa, Goddess of Rebirth, will be bound to me only, and I to her. She will by my consort and my queen, share my power and my wealth, and enjoy my protection. Let it be known that any man who dares touch her shall be cursed, for I will find him and sentence him to eternal torment in the depths of Tartarus.”

Sansa’s breath hitched at this, her heart pounding painfully in her chest. Stannis intended to guard her very jealously indeed! It both frightened and excited her, even as it put her strangely at ease. She would never have to worry about Robert or any such god or man trying to take her against her will. None would dare challenge Stannis.

She knew it was now her turn to speak her vow and she took a deep shuddering breath to prepare herself.

“I, Sansa, the Goddess of Rebirth, do declare that I willingly and gladly bind myself to Stannis, God of the Underworld, from this day until the end of days. I will endeavour to serve him well, just as I will endeavour to serve the Underworld to the best of my abilities. As the Lady of Elysium I will select worthy souls for rebirth. As Queen I will consider purifying souls that have paid their dues in the Asphodel Meadows and the Vale of Mourning and allowing them entry to Elysium.”

Sansa did not know where those words had come from. She had not really prepared a speech. They had simply appeared in her head and she had said them. Sansa felt certain that the fates had a hand in this.

Minos, Rhadamanthus and Aeacus took steps forward and spoke in unison again. From somewhere they had conjured a vase of water.

“Let it be known that their oaths have been sworn by the water of the River Styx.”

They held the vase up, and Stannis dipped two fingers in the water, bringing it to his lips. Sansa followed his example. The water was cool and clear.

Suddenly and without warning, Stannis descended on her, kissing her fiercely, sealing their union and mingling the oath-water that had touched each of their lips. Sansa instinctively closed her eyes and parted her lips when her surprise abated, and Stannis eagerly deepened the kiss. His beard felt strangely soft; she had expected it to scratch her delicate skin. His tongue felt strange in her mouth as she passively allowed him to taste her, but soon her curiosity compelled her to duel his tongue with her own, and it no longer felt strange after that. Instead it felt _wonderful,_ sending wave after wave of that curious heat through her, pooling like molten lava low at her centre. He tasted of lemon, fresh and sharp, and she wondered what she tasted of to him. One of his hands came up caress the back of her neck, the other going to her waist and tugging her closer. Soon they were flush against each other, and Sansa wrapped her arms around his neck, both to make sure she did not sink to the floor due to her suddenly weak knees, and also because it just seemed the thing to do.

When they eventually broke apart to get some air, Sansa noticed that the throne room had emptied of everyone except the two of them.

“Oh,” she breathed, feeling rather faint and surprised.

Stannis’ gaze was as hungry as it had been the first time he had revealed himself to her. Without a word he picked her up and started to march towards his bedchamber. She could not bring herself to make a single sound. Her voice seemed to have become lost, her mouth dry, and her lips trembled with an odd mixture of fear and need.

The expression on Stannis’ face was dark and intense - almost frightening to behold - and Sansa hoped that no one would attempt to get in his way. She did not know that Podrick was at this very moment considering whether to approach the Ruler of Many, having just arrived with orders to find out what Sansa’s situation was. One look at the expression on Stannis’ face as he carried his trembling bride to his chamber convinced Podrick that he should talk to someone else instead. He did not fancy being thrown into Tartarus.

It took him no time at all to find out that Stannis and Sansa had just been wed, and that they had sworn oaths by the water of the River Styx. Podrick decided that this was all the information that Robert would require, and hurried to leave the Underworld, unaware of how close he had come to eternal torment.


	4. A Problem

Stannis could hardly believe it. After all these years he finally had a worthy wife. A _Queen._ He had her in his arms, warm and willing and looking at him with a mixture of trepidation and need. He felt an overwhelming rush of sensation at the sight. A purely physical lust; a heavy pressure down below that would consume him if he allowed it. There was also a fierce protectiveness urging him to take care and tread lightly, and an intense fear of making a false move and causing his young wife to hate him for all of eternity.

He was therefore very careful when he deposited her on his bed, draped in the finest of silk sheets for the occasion, a smattering of petals from ghostly asphodel flowers scattered over them invitingly. He supposed the servants had deemed it appropriate.

“You - you are so beautiful,” he heard himself stammer, already undone at the prospect of bedding her. The idea of lying with her had haunted his thoughts ever since he had first seen her, his need only growing the more he got to know her and the more he came to recognise how she was truly made to be his.

He felt himself tremble as he joined her on the bed, unable to bring himself to remove her peplos or even just unravel her beautiful hair. He simply gazed at her hungrily, enjoying the knowledge that she was his and that no other god or man would ever touch her.

“Thank you, my lord,” Sansa said sweetly, accepting his clumsy compliment with a blush. She was looking at him with wide blue eyes, lips trembling, her breathing uneven and faster than normal. _’What will you do with me?’_ she seemed to ask, the question as clear as the waters of the Styx in her eyes.

“I should like to kiss you again, my lady. Would you allow it?” he asked, remembering how easy it had been to communicate his desire to her using his lips and his tongue.

Still blushing like a pink rose, his young wife nodded and closed her eyes. He wasted no time seeking her lips with his own, going slowly at first, but losing his patience as soon as she parted her lips invitingly, invading her mouth with his tongue and tasting her thoroughly. She tasted of pomegranates and her scent was something purely unique, tinged with the sweet almond oil her maids must have used when they had bathed her. What really struck Stannis about kissing Sansa was her softness. He did not believe he had ever touched anything as perfectly smooth and soft as her skin, and her lips were even softer still! The lush, full lips defied description, and Stannis had to work very hard to keep from biting into the plump flesh as if she were a ripe plum. He allowed himself the gentlest of nibbles after a while and was rewarded with a drawn out moan that went straight to his groin.

“Sansa,” he groaned, breaking their kiss reluctantly to bring his fingertips to her lips, wishing to confirm with his hands what his own lips were telling him; that Sansa’s lips were the softest, most precious lips in all of creation. His hands shook as he brought them to her face, one alighting on her cheek, the other reaching for her lips. He ran the pad of his thumb from one end of her bottom lip to the other, sighing with pleasure at the intensely erotic feeling. He repeated the motion with each fingertip, his eyes reverently fixed on what he was doing. Sansa stayed still for him, her blue eyes staring at him in wonder.

“Shall I let down my hair?” Sansa asked when he had withdrawn his tingling hands and returned to looking at her hungrily, unable to think coherent thoughts.

He nodded awkwardly, ashamed of how excited by the notion of watching her unpin her hair was making him.

Sansa sat up and began by pulling all the jewel encrusted combs from her complicated hairstyle. There were many and it took her a while to find them all. They had been partly responsible for holding her hair in place, and by the time she finished, many locks of hair had come undone, falling about her face and neck in glossy waves and tight coils. Her hands moved more quickly once she had carefully stowed the decorative jewels and gemstones away on a nearby table, unwinding and releasing her tresses with practised ease. His chamber was dimly lit, but what little light there was bounced off her shining hair in a pale imitation of how the sunlight had lit her glorious mane on fire the first time he had seen her in Nysa. The sweet almond scent became stronger with every lock of hair that tumbled down her back or over her shoulders, and Stannis inhaled deeply and appreciatively, savouring it greedily.

Stannis was mesmerised by how Sansa combed her fingers through her hair once every lock had been unwound and released. He desperately wished to emulate the motion, convinced that nothing would please him more than a chance to run his hands through her thick hair.

“Might I…?” he asked, feeling embarrassed by his unfinished request.

Sansa nodded and dropped her own hand away obligingly.

Stannis loved the feeling of her soft hair tickling the sensitive skin between his fingers and delighted in how smoothly he was able to comb his fingers from her scalp to the ends. He noticed that she let out little moans of pleasure when he focused his attention on her scalp, and soon his was exclusively letting his fingertips scratch lightly at the back of her head, occasionally trailing down to her neck.

“Oh, could you touch my back like that, too?” she asked sweetly and breathily after a while, reaching to undo the fastenings of her peplos. She didn’t wait for an answer, undressed in front of him without a care in the world, and got back on the bed as if nothing of note had happened. She was lying on her front, exposing her bare back and the curve of her flawless backside, her perfectly formed thighs and her shapely calves. Stannis had frozen in place, unable to tear his eyes away, haunted by the brief glimpse of her naked breasts and riveted by all the naked flesh that was on full display.

“Please?” she raised her head to look at him, reminding him of her request.

Feeling painfully aroused, Stannis started to stroke her back, letting his fingernails graze her skin and create red lines that stayed visible for a few seconds before fading away. Sansa moaned with pleasure, obviously enjoying his ministrations immensely.

Making sure to keep touching her as much as he could, Stannis was able to disrobe, using mostly one hand at a time to accomplish the task. He stubbornly resisted the urge to touch himself, though the pressure he was feeling - the urge for touch and friction - was almost maddening. He got to his side next to Sansa and pressed himself against her body, still stroking her back idly. Pressing his hard length against her thigh and rubbing himself firmly against her brought him a measure of relief, but he was as anxious as he was aroused the whole time, afraid that she would jump with fright and pull away. She did no such thing, however, seemingly rendered immobilised by his touch at her back. She was still practically purring with pleasure as he ran his fingernails up and down her shoulder blades and her spine, never lingering for too long in one place.

Soon he could smell a new scent permeating the air, overpowering the sweet almond oil; it was unmistakably the complex, musky scent of female arousal. Stannis had never taken a wife, and he had only taken a handful of lovers in the eons of his existence, but his nose recognised an aroused female as surely as it recognised the scent of ambrosia and nectar.

Stannis rose up, supporting himself with one elbow, and looked down over Sansa’s form. She was alternately writhing and pressing her thighs together tightly; another unmistakable sign of arousal. He knew - or perhaps he hoped - that if he turned her around he would see her cheeks and her chest flushed, her nipples stiff and her eyes glazed and needy. The idea of seeing these magnificent sights inspired in him the courage to ask her to let him look.

“Turn around, my little wife,” he whispered in a hoarse voice he hardly knew as his own.

Sansa did as he asked, and the sight of her was even more glorious than he had imagined. She was still as pink as a rose, the flush having spread from her cheeks to her neck and all the way to her perfect, heaving breasts. Her nipples were puckered and begging to be touched, and her face was a mask of intense desire. Her eyes were indeed glazed, but the raw need he saw there was almost too much for him to bear. He had not expected the need in her eyes to be directed so blatantly at him. He had been expecting a more vague and general sort of need, not a specific need for _him._

Stannis did not delude himself into thinking he was what a young goddess would dream of. Not when such gods as Jaime the sun god, Loras the god of love and attraction, and Obyrin the war god existed. He had fully expected Sansa to accept his attentions reluctantly, thinking of a more handsome man the whole time. He would not have minded as long as she did not reject him entirely, but this deeply _personal_ lust he was seeing shocked and thrilled him.

“Husband?” Sansa looked at him inquiringly, obviously confused by his stunned silence and lack of action.

Hearing her refer to him as her husband so sweetly was all it took to shake him out of his daze. He moved towards her, aiming another passionate kiss at her lips, one of his hands seeking relatively innocent purchase in her hair, the other clinging to her shoulder. As their kiss deepened and became a languorous exploration of lips and tongues, Stannis occasionally releasing her mouth in favour of exploring the graceful column of her neck, his hands became braver. Trembling slightly with long suppressed need, one hand sought an exposed breast, his thumb ghosting over the peak of her nipple. The mere act of touching her in such a way had his hips moving impatiently against her, his manhood eager to sink into her warmth and make her truly _his._

Sansa moaned again as he fondled her breast, seemingly enjoying his attentions. Feeling rather daring, he started to kiss his way down to her chest, taking a nipple into his mouth, lathing it with his tongue, grazing it with his teeth, and letting the eager, lustful cries she made in response to his ministrations drive him to distraction. He continued onwards, motivated by Sansa’s ecstatic moans, taking her other nipple into his mouth and manipulating it with his tongue just as he had its twin. Without stopping, he risked reaching between her thighs with his hand, seeking her warmth and needing to confirm whether she was indeed becoming as ready for him as the scent of arousal in the air indicated. He found her curls damp with her need for him, and groaned against her breast, unable to contain his triumph at finding her so receptive.

Curious and driven by lust, Stannis dipped a finger into her searing heat, finding her even damper still at the source, her tight passage clamping down on his invading digit enjoyably.

“Oh, _oh_ , my lord! Please, that feels lovely…” Sansa encouraged him eagerly, her voice at once innocently pleading and lustful.

The feel of her around his finger and the sound of her beautiful voice distracted him from his work at her breasts, and soon he was unable to continue licking at her sensitive peaks. Instead he was using his mouth to groan and whisper nonsensical, disjointed sentences as he rubbed himself still more eagerly against her thigh, trying to relieve his own aching need. He started to imitate the act he so wanted to perform with his finger, lewdly pushing and pulling it in and out of her heat, listening to her voice as she prayed for him to continue, prayed for _more._ He added more fingers, until she was tightening and fluttering around three of his probing digits, his thumb rubbing circles against the secret place higher up above her entrance that made her gasp and whimper.

“My lord! Oh, oh, _please,_ oh, my lord, Stannis, _Stannis!_ ” Sansa sobbed as she quivered under his hand, crying out for him in ecstatic pleasure.

Stannis couldn’t take his eyes off her as she panted, her breasts heaving and her lips parted to allow all those delightful sounds to escape her. It was the most arousing, erotic sight he had ever beheld and his flesh was more inflamed for her than ever before. Taking his hand away earned him a whimper of protest and very gratifying pout, but she need not fret for he intended to replace his hand with his hard, thick length; long denied and desperate to enter her. But first he took a moment to look at her appreciatively, observing how she was opening for him like a dewy flower on a spring morning, glistening and _beautiful._ His manhood felt heavy in his hand as he guided himself to her opening and he was almost dizzy with anticipation. When the head of his cock finally touched her, sinking into her slightly, he moaned desperately at how perfect she felt, his hips surging forwards reflexively. It was a ruthless, impatient thrust, and he nearly blacked out from the bliss of finding himself buried to the hilt in her tight, pulsating passage.

He was brought back to himself by the broken whimpers emitting from Sansa’s throat. He kept still and looked at her eyes, wondering if he had hurt her. Her eyes were squeezed shut, and she did indeed have a pained expression on her face. Stannis frowned; hurting her had not been his intention. In the absence of instructions from his wife, he decided the best thing to do would be to continue to keep still until she indicated that he should move.

He was shaking and grinding his teeth with the effort when she finally opened her eyes and looked at him. 

“Slowly,” she gasped, angling her hips a little differently and relaxing around him slightly.

He did as she commanded. Pulling back a short distance and then pushing forward slowly was not what he needed, but it was all she could handle for what seemed like a very _very_ long time. Stannis felt as if he were perishing of thirst and being obliged to lick moisture from individual blades of grass instead of being able to quench his thirst by sticking his head in the nearby ice-cold, crystal-clear river and taking great big gulps.

Finally Sansa started to breathe little gasps of enjoyment, and Stannis risked pulling out further and pushing himself back inside a little faster. Sansa responded with a surprised sound, but it was definitely approving, so Stannis kept this new faster pace going, relief flooding his system. Soon Sansa was bending her knees and pulling her thighs towards her chest, cradling him and giving him better access. He gave into the primal urge to pull out almost completely and slam himself back demandingly. It made Sansa cry out, but it was definitely a cry of pleasure. He grunted in satisfaction and started to do it again and again, his pleasure finally building towards the release he so sorely needed.

When his release took hold of him, his sac tightening up and sending his seed forward, he moaned Sansa’s name and gasped, hips bucking uncontrollably as if he were attempting to get deeper and deeper inside of her. Sansa was moaning too, and he opened his eyes to look upon her face as aftershocks sent jolts of intense pleasure through his body. What he saw did not precisely surprise him, though he had forgotten that it might happen.

When a maiden goddess allowed herself to be claimed it was not unusual for changes to occur. Her powers and even her appearance were subject to modification. Stannis was certain that her powers would only increase as he had made an oath to share his own considerable powers with her, but he had not expected her to look any different.

As he watched, her hair colour darkened almost imperceptibly, becoming a lustrous, deep auburn shade. Her skin went from porcelain to smooth, pale ivory, and her face lost the roundness of her girlish youth. Sansa’s cheekbones seemed a touch sharper and her face somehow grew longer and more womanly. But to his relief her eyes were still the same exact shade of blue they had always been when she opened them.

She looked every inch the Queen of the Underworld now.

Stannis would have liked to stay mounted as he was for much longer, looking down at her beautiful face and feeling her heat, but an urge he could not argue with was compelling him to pull out and roll to the side. Sansa seemed both reluctant to lose their intimate connection and glad at the opportunity to rest her legs in a more natural pose.

Once his breathing was under control and his considerable mental faculties had returned to working order, Stannis realised that he owed his Queen an apology. He rose up on one elbow so that he might look upon her face and reached for her cheek with his free hand, stroking it reverently.

“Forgive me, my Queen, I am deeply ashamed to have hurt you in my haste to have you,” he said softly and meekly, using a tone of voice he had never used in all the eons of his immortal life.

“You did not intend to cause me pain,” Sansa said, her voice less girlish than it had been the last time she used it. She did not seem to notice the change.

“I have your forgiveness?” He needed to be sure.

“You do, my lord husband.” She still sounded so sweet, even though it was a different, less innocent sweetness. The sound of it stirred his passion, and he felt himself hardening again. He was a god, and though he might not be the god of love and attraction, he was not limited by the same restrictions as mortal men.

“Good, for I should like to take you again if you are willing.” He turned to rest on his side so that he might push his rigid manhood against her skin.

“Oh!” she gasped, clearly surprised. She was blushing a deep crimson, and Stannis groaned at the sight and the feel of her.

“I think, yes, that would be all right,” she whispered shyly, her blue eyes wide and trusting.

He had to close his eyes for a moment to gather his wits. She had given the answer he had hoped for, but now that he had her permission he needed to plan his next move. It would not do for him to be in control again as he did not think he was any closer to knowing how to control himself around her than he had been the first time.

She looked surprised again when he turned to lie on his back, no longer rubbing himself against her. She sat up and gave him a confused look, obviously seeking guidance.

“Sit astride me, little wife, and take me inside at your own pace,” he directed, impossibly aroused by the very idea.

Sansa’s eyes brightened briefly, clearly pleased to know what he wanted her to do, but then she looked worried, or perhaps concerned.

“How should I…?” she asked, worrying at her plump bottom lip in a most distracting way, a deep blush still staining her cheeks. 

Stannis understood that she was nervous at the thought of being in control, and sat up slightly to assist her, getting her to swing a leg across his lap, align their bodies and hover over his groin with her thighs spread wide. He held his eager cock steady for her, grasping it firmly at its base, and encouraged her to sink down on him at her own speed.

He regretted giving her this control almost as soon as she started to move. She seemed in no hurry to sink down! She had not even taken the head inside several minutes later, choosing instead to rub herself against him, wetting him against her slick folds and letting him brush repeatedly against the spot he had been touching with his thumb not so long ago. He could not bring himself to protest this treatment since she was moaning delightfully, growing louder and louder, trembling and quivering beautifully above him. He was especially entranced by the movements of her breasts and his palms were itching with the desire to fondle them again. He gritted his teeth to bring himself under control, focusing with all his might on holding his cock still for her to enjoy and preventing himself from thrusting up.

His patience was rewarded after he had started to grind his teeth and make desperate guttural sounds at the back of his throat in frustration. She started to impale herself on him and he no longer needed to hold his cock steady. He reached for her waist instead, enjoying how big his hands looked as they encircled her pristine flesh. His fingers tightened around her, digging slightly into her skin, but he was able to resist the urge to use his grip on her to pull her down. He had promised that she would go at her own speed. Unfortunately he had not comprehended quite how slowly it was possible to go.

Inch by inch she took him in and he was sure every muscle in his body was vibrating with the effort of keeping himself from giving into the powerful desire to move her up and down as he thrust up wildly.

At long last she was sitting flush against him, his cock fully sheathed within her, her inner muscles gripping him tightly. She started to rock herself gently against him, not pulling away and slamming herself back down as he needed her to, but grinding wantonly, her own hand reaching for one of her pink, puckered nipples and pinching it between a thumb and a forefinger. The sight drew a broken whimper from his throat, and a completely involuntary jerk from his hips. His grip on her waist became fiercer, and he looked up at her in supplication, willing her to open her eyes and meet his.

Her eyelashes fluttered open, and she parted her lips in surprise when she saw how desperately he was looking at her.

“Would you like to take control again?” she asked curiously, tilting her head.

“If you would allow it, my little wife,” he choked out, startled at how difficult it was to speak.

She nodded her assent, and Stannis wasted no time using his grip on her to start moving her pliant body up and down roughly, thrusting his hips up whenever he pulled her down so that he could bury himself as deeply as possible in every stroke. Sansa helped him along, adding her strength to his and crying out in pleasure every time he pulled her down. Her eyes were closed so she did not see how hungrily he watched her face and her breasts as they moved up and down due to the force of their coupling.

“Continue at this pace,” he gasped, unable to keep from fondling her tempting breasts any longer. Sansa obeyed, and even though he was no longer steering her, she continued to rise up and then sink down rapidly, their bodies coming together noisily each time. Sansa moaned when his hands reached her mounds, palming the curved flesh greedily.

“Might I - I would like to go - _oh_ \- faster, my lord,” she gasped out as he flicked her nipples. She had apparently taken his suggestion that she continue at his earlier pace as a command.

“As you wish,” he said heatedly, enjoying the sensory overload he was experiencing. She started to move faster as soon as he spoke, no longer moving up and down, but grinding herself forward and backwards rapidly and more forcefully than he would have expected, whimpering with need. Her whimpers soon became cries and then she was calling his name and moving almost convulsively against him. It was a miraculous, thoroughly stimulating sight and it brought him to his second release of the evening.

He was nowhere near done with her, however.

She moved to lie down on her side, her back to him, a sheen of perspiration making her skin shine in the dim light. He refused to let himself soften and he refused to give her any time to rest. He got on his side guided himself to her entrance from behind, (“Stannis!”) pressing forward carefully until his chest was flush against her back, his cock buried in her heat once more. Lying on their sides necessitated more gentle movements, and he enjoyed rocking himself against her steadily for a while, listening to her drawn out moans and enjoying the sweet almond scent of her hair. He could very easily imagine himself doing this for hours, perhaps even days, for it was both comfortable and intensely satisfying.

His even, lazy movements seemed to be driving her to distraction, however, and she was soon pushing her backside eagerly against him every time he rocked his hips forwards, begging for more.

“Please, my lord, faster, my lord!”

He rolled them so that she was lying on her front with him pinning her down with his bulk. She spread her thighs immediately, and attempted to raise the lower half of her body up towards him. He did not immediately let her up and continued his shallow, gentle thrusts for a while longer, enjoying her increasingly desperate pleas for more.

Finally he decided to have mercy on her, got to his knees and pulled her to her knees too. She sobbed with relief when he started to give her the powerful, fast-paced thrusts she had been pleading for. In no time at all she was clenching around him in a vice-like grip, crying out incoherently and eventually screaming with pleasure; short and wordless high-pitched notes timed to coincide perfectly with the smacks of naked skin against naked skin. 

It was music to his ears.

He kept going for a long time, until she trembled and shook and her voice came out hoarse and weak. He allowed himself his third release and it was positively euphoric to feel her rhythmic clenching as his seed flowed forth.

Stannis let her rest for a little after that. But only a little while.

***

“I can report with certainty that Stannis has taken Sansa as his wife. They swore oaths to each other by the waters of the River Styx and he declared her his queen and consort. She has also been made the sole ruler of Elysium.” Podrick hesitated and looked at Catelyn worriedly. Should he tell her and Robert that he had seen Stannis carry Sansa off, his intent to ravish her quite clear? That she had been trembling in his arms?

“But did you see her? _Did you see my daughter?_ Did she look hurt?” Catelyn asked, a desperate plea in her voice.

“Er…” Podrick glanced at Robert, feeling uncertain.

“Answer Catelyn’s questions!” Robert boomed commandingly.

“I did see her. The Rich One was carrying her to their wedding bed. She did not look hurt, though she trembled.”

Catelyn let out a wounded cry, the piercing sound of a deeply hurt creature. “My poor sweet child!” she moaned, tears streaming down her face. She wept bitterly for a while, occasionally repeating a variation of her lament for Sansa’s sweetness and innocence. Robert and Podrick looked on awkwardly, unable to think of anything that might comfort the grieving mother. Eventually she calmed herself, straightening her back and squaring her shoulders. Her eyes flashed dangerously, red and swollen as they were, and she spoke with icy determination.

“I want her returned to me, Robert.”

Robert sighed deeply. “I have not the right to take Stannis’ wife from him.”

“He did not have the right to take her in the first place!” Catelyn hissed.

“It is done. Accept it.”

“Never!”

Catelyn looked fierce and determined, and Podrick was certain that she would go to any length to rescue her daughter from the clutches of the Ruler of Many. Robert did not seem to understand that. He looked amused and dismissive.

“What do you think you can do to change that which the fates have decreed?” he scoffed.

“I will not bless the earth, I will not allow a single crop to be harvested, nor a tree to bear fruit, nor any plant to flourish!” she threatened, her every word wrought with emotion, “the mortals that worship you will all perish and who will sustain you then?”

Podrick could tell that Robert was startled by Catelyn’s words. He had clearly not considered her capable of making such a serious threat.

“You dare to threaten to neglect your sacred duties?” Robert roared, the air around him crackling with electricity.

“I wish for nothing except to perform my sacred duties, my king. I simply wish to do them with my daughter by my side. Summon her from the Unseen One’s realm and I will be happy to resume my place in the order of things.”

“No! I will do no such thing! I gave Stannis my word that he might choose a bride. He has done so. Your daughter is the Queen of the Underworld and ruler of Elysium. Be content with her lot and move on.” Robert had stood up from his throne as his voice thundered and intimidated. Yet Catelyn did not cower before him, though he struck an imposing figure.

“Summon me when you change your mind,” she simply said, turning on her heel and marching out of sight.

Robert waited until she had left before he slumped back into his throne, sighing heavily.

“This is going to be a problem, isn’t it?” he asked Podrick, rubbing at his forehead worriedly.

“Most likely, my lord.”


	5. A Meeting

Sansa sat and listened to the shades in Elysium in wonderment. She had not heard them when she had first visited the Fields, but now that she was Queen she could suddenly hear them as clearly as she could hear any living person. As soon as she had found this out she had asked Stannis what he thought could be going on.

“I am not surprised that you can hear the shades, for I can hear them, too. Do not forget that you have a share in my power now.”

The shades kept a respectful distance, but they were all clamouring for an audience with their new ruler, many wishing for a chance to be reborn, many simply curious and eager to meet her.

It surprised Sansa how _easy_ it was to slip into her new role. She had expected that it would be challenging and that she would have a lot to learn, but her duties did not seem any more complicated to her than her duties in the world above, and the ability to perform them came just as naturally. She enjoyed her time in Elysium and the Asphodel Meadows, and she did not find it difficult to sit in the throne room with Stannis as he meted out his justice, giving her advice when he sought it or simply when she deemed it appropriate. To her surprise she found the work she did in the Vale of Mourning to be the most rewarding. She had found that a simple touch from her was not enough on its own to heal the broken hearts of the shades that wandered in the Vale, but as she was now able to speak to the shades, she discovered that listening to them explain the depth of their sorrow - though they could not remember its cause - was sometimes the additional help they needed. The combination of her sympathetic ear and healing touch was often enough to allow the shades to move on to the Asphodel Meadows at least. It brought Sansa much joy to ease their suffering, for in her mind they did not deserve the pain they experienced.

It surprised her how much she enjoyed performing her duty as Stannis’ wife, too. They had spent _days_ in bed after their wedding, and Stannis still sought to join with her at least a few times each night. His need for her was insatiable and he never seemed to tire of making her lose herself in the pleasure he had taught her to find with him. It made her blush just to think of it!

Sansa was glad that she had found answers to the questions she had asked herself all those days ago.

She desired her husband. She desired to be his Queen and was content now that she was. She knew that her desires mattered a great deal to her husband, and that she needed only to voice a wish to have it fulfilled.

She was still working up the courage to express her desire to speak to her mother. It was the only wish she was afraid that her husband would not try to fulfill. She knew he was a possessive god, and that he guarded his subjects jealously. Would he be any less possessive of her? Would he try to keep her from her mother? 

Perhaps if she convinced him that she was not trying to leave him, that she only wished to send a message to her mother to let her know that she was safe and happy in her new role…?

Sansa stood up from her spot in the grass, smiling sweetly at the shades around her. It would not do for her to remain in Elysium when her thoughts were elsewhere. She decided to seek her husband and see whether he was in an approachable mood.

She found Stannis in the throne room, standing by the large windows and staring out over the Styx with a neutral expression on his face. He scowled a lot less now that they were wed. It pleased Sansa immensely, and she was sure that soon she would be able to convince him to start letting go of his more bitter memories. The corners of his mouth lifted when he spotted her and he took a step towards her. She quickened her pace, not wishing for him to trouble himself by meeting her halfway. She quite liked the view from the windows and did not mind speaking to him where he currently stood.

She greeted him with a lingering kiss that he seemed very glad to return judging by the pleased sound that escaped him as they tasted one another. Before they could get distracted and end up in their bedchamber for the next few hours, Sansa broke the kiss and asked Stannis whether he had been having a productive day. She had learnt that Stannis became baffled at the mere idea of a ‘pleasant’ day, so she adjusted her polite speech to his preference of thinking of things in terms of being either productive or wasteful.

They exchanged news of what they had accomplished in their time apart, and Sansa determined that Stannis was in as receptive a mood as he was ever likely to be in. His day did not seem to have included any irritating heroes, frustrating escape attempts or souls that had been difficult to judge. The most interesting thing he reported was a small success in Cerberus’ new diet and exercise regime.

She gathered her courage and spoke in her sweetest, most demure tone of voice; it was a tone that had never failed to soften his eyes and always inclined him to yield to her will.

“I wondered if I might send my mother a message, my husband.”

Stannis had seemed ready to soften and yield when she had started to speak, but as soon as her request registered he stiffened and narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

“What use would that be?” he snapped.

Sansa steeled herself, ignoring how her heart was pounding in her chest, raising her chin and meeting Stannis’ eyes fearlessly. She was not trying to trick him or defy him. She simply wanted her mother to know that she was unharmed. It was not an unreasonable request!

“I believe she might be worried about me. I wish to put her at ease and share news of my new role and title. I wish for her to share my happiness,” Sansa said soothingly, keeping her irritation with his overprotective possessiveness well hidden. Courtesy was a lady’s armour, after all.

Stannis seemed slightly less suspicious and he appeared to be considering her request seriously. Sansa repressed the urge to hold her breath in anticipation of his next words. Her heart was still pounding with excitement, and her throat felt tight and uncomfortable, her tongue dry.

“The next time Podrick visits you may give him a message to relay to your mother,” he eventually allowed, bowing his head slightly.

Sansa’s heart felt suddenly ten times its usual size, and her cheeks ached because her smile had burst forth so suddenly, wide and ecstatic. “Thank you, my dearest husband!” She could not help herself and threw her arms around her husband’s neck, embracing him to show her gratitude and delight. Why had she thought he would deny her this small thing? He was no cruel jailer. He wished her only well. She was sure that he was only concerned that her mother might seek to take her from him, but such a thing could never happen now that they were irrevocably bound to each other…

Or could it?

***

“The mortals have stopped sending us sacrifices and tributes. For how long do you intend to let Catelyn starve them?” Cersei asked, her honeyed lilt doing nothing to disguise her derision.

“I have commanded her to cease withholding her blessings, but she does not listen. She refuses to relent and demands that her daughter be returned to her,” Robert explained, his tone both impatient and exhausted. Without the constant worship of mortals he always felt rather lethargic and drained.

“Give Catelyn back her daughter, then,” Cersei shrugged, raising a perfect eyebrow.

“I cannot!” Robert roared angrily, annoyed when it did not even make Cersei flinch, “Stannis has claimed her as his consort and queen. Would _you_ like to tell him that he can’t keep her?”

“Hardly,” Cersei scoffed, “send Podrick to inform Stannis of the situation. Demand that he at least allow Catelyn visitation rights or _something._ ”

Robert looked at his wife incredulously. Why hadn’t he thought of that? Perhaps a compromise could be reached as she suggested. It would not hurt to try…

***

“These numbers can’t be right,” Stannis said to Davos, furrowing his brow and glaring at the ferryman as if it were his fault that the was bringing Stannis boatload after boatload of souls that looked as if they had no business being in the Underworld; young adults in the prime of their life!

“Is there a war on?” Stannis muttered to himself, looking over the crowd of shades in confusion. No, there were almost as many women as there were men. Wars sent him almost exclusively young men.

“A famine…” one of the shades whispered. Another shade repeated the word, and soon they were all moaning about a terrible cold that was sweeping the land, killing the crops and causing every edible plant to wither.

“I just row the boat,” Davos shrugged, using his pole to push his ferry away from the bank, heading back across the Acheron to fetch more paying customers.

Stannis made an annoyed sound but did not prevent the ferryman from leaving.

As he stood amongst the shades, listening to them complain about a famine and attempting to understand the situation in the mortal world, a servant from the palace approached him and informed him that Podrick was waiting for him in the throne room. Stannis sighed and told the servant to find Sansa and bring her to the throne room, too. He had not forgotten his promise to her.

Once he was on his throne, Sansa’s wintry seat still empty beside him, he gestured for Podrick to speak.

“Greetings, Lord Stannis,” Podrick said, sounding unusually nervous. He was casting furtive looks at the icy throne next to Stannis’ obsidian one, and obviously wondering where Sansa was.

“Greetings, Podrick. What news from Olympus?”

“Ill news, I’m afraid.”

“I had suspected as much. The freshly dead speak of a famine.”

“The famine is due to Catelyn, my lord. She refuses to see to her duties.”

A strong sense of foreboding settled in the pit of Stannis’ stomach at Podrick’s words. If Catelyn was involved, surely the reason for her involvement could somehow be traced back to Sansa.

“Why does Robert not command her to resume them?” he asked, letting his irritation show.

“He has tried, my lord! She is stubborn.”

“What is she trying to accomplish?” Stannis thought he might already know, but he needed to hear Podrick confirm it.

“She means to force Robert to give her daughter back to her,” Podrick said, swallowing noticeably, clearly frightened of what Stannis’ reaction would be.

Stannis felt his face freeze into a mask of cold fury. “Oh, indeed?” he whispered.

“Robert has refused, of course!” Podrick quickly explained, looking frantic.

“I should hope so,” Stannis said icily, raising an eyebrow.

“However, people _are_ dying, and Robert was hoping that you might be willing to at least let Sansa visit her mother… or… something…” Podrick seemed to lose the courage to speak as he reached the end of his sentence, trailing off uncertainly as he watched Stannis’ face. Stannis supposed his righteous fury was frightening to behold.

“I had already promised my wife that she would be allowed to give you a message for her mother. You will make do with that,” Stannis said through gritted teeth, glaring daggers at the messenger god.

At that moment Sansa entered the throne room, looking as breathtakingly beautiful as she always did, her long hair loose and wild around her shoulders, an emerald green chiton caressing her curves. Her feet were bare, and Stannis knew that meant that she had been in the Elysian Fields. The only jewels she wore graced the crown atop her head, a piece that Stannis had made for her himself. It was in the likeness of a wreath of leaves and flowers, but made of all the finest metals and gems instead of actual blooms.

Stannis and Podrick were struck dumb by her appearance and neither made a move while Sansa breezed past Podrick and took her place on her glittering throne.

“Podrick is willing to carry a message to your mother,” Stannis said when he had recovered his powers of speech, “do you wish to write your words down and have him carry a scroll, or would you speak your words to him?”

“I should not wish to delay dear Podrick while I attempted to write a message,” Sansa said in her sweet, courteous voice, smiling prettily at Podrick. Stannis scowled at that, not wishing her to bestow her smiles on anyone but him. Sansa seemed to sense this and turned her head so that she was smiling at him instead. Feeling mollified, he let his scowl fade slightly.

“It would be no trouble at all, my lady,” Podrick said, obviously already besotted. Stannic grasped the armrests of his throne tightly, his knuckles turning white. How dare that little thief even look upon Sansa’s face? How _dare_ he?

“You’re too sweet, but I think I shall only give you a short message to convey to my mother at this time. I should like you to tell her that I am safe, unharmed and pleased with my new husband and my new role as his Queen. I have been renamed the Goddess of Rebirth, and I have discovered gifts that allow me to help the mortal souls that deserve my aid. The fates always intended this path for me, I think.”

Stannis was very pleased with his wife’s words, glad to hear that she agreed with him about how the fates must have meant for her to rule at his side in the Underworld. They hadn’t discussed it, so she must have come to the same conclusion he had on her own.

His pleasure with Sansa did nothing to diminish his irritation with Podrick. Stannis felt his countenance harden when he looked at him. The insolent god was gaping slightly, obviously having hung on to Sansa’s every word, gazing up at her with calf eyes.

“Away with you,” Stannis commanded angrily, a clear threat of ‘or else’ implied.

As if he were waking from a trance, Podrick shook his head slightly, gave Stannis a frightened look, and flew off without a single word.

Sansa reached to stroke the back of his hand, making him loosen his hold on the armrests at once. “Oh, Stannis. Did you really need to frighten him like that?” she asked. sounded amused and exasperated.

“He was _looking_ at you,” he muttered petulantly, wincing a little at how juvenile he sounded.

Sansa stood up and sat herself in his lap. This cheered him up immensely and he eagerly encircled her with his arms, holding her tightly to him.

“I am yours, my king. Others may look, but you are the only one who may touch me,” she whispered in his ear, her sweet voice hinting at desire. He groaned in response, growing hard and eager for her, wishing to make use of his right to touch her immediately. He combed his fingers through her long hair and kissed her deeply, hungrily and demandingly, his tongue aggressively tasting and exploring her mouth. It was strange, but though he knew that she obeyed his wish for her to eat and drink only ambrosia and nectar, she always tasted of pomegranates. It was a sweet, tart taste that he could not get enough of even as he licked her lips and sucked on the tip of her tongue.

“Take me to bed,” she begged when he finally released her mouth, and he was only too happy to oblige her.

***

“There, you heard the message! Sansa is fine! She does not need you to rescue her!” Robert exclaimed, pleased relief on his tired features.

Catelyn shook her head stubbornly. “How can I trust anything she says when Stannis is in the room with her? She might be too afraid to say anything he does not approve of!” Honestly, Robert was as dumb as a rock sometimes.

“You are just being obstinate, now,” Robert sighed, frustration taking the place of his relief.

“I want her returned to me. Nothing else will appease me. No news of her, no promises of her safety, _nothing but her poor abused body in my arms!_ ”

“She really didn’t look abused…” Podrick muttered at the winged sandals on his feet.

“What would you understand of the abuse a female faces in this world?” Catelyn shrieked at him.

Podrick winced and continued to avoid her eyes.

“Catelyn, be reasonable!” Robert thundered, his patience completely worn away.

“No! Not while my child is kept from me!” she shouted right back, turning around to march from the room. She knew she had almost won. She would just have to stay strong for a bit longer. The mortals were dying in droves and they were all too exhausted and hungry to worship the gods. They could not afford to send the gods any sacrifices as they barely had enough to subsist on themselves. It hurt Catelyn to cause such suffering, but it was not her fault that Robert was refusing to end this madness. She had made her stance clear; it was up to him to save the mortals, not her.

***

Sansa’s heart felt much lighter since Podrick had gone to deliver her message to her mother. She hoped her words had helped her mother find peace, as she was sure she must have been frantic for as long as Sansa had been missing.

Her concerns for her mother were soon replaced by concerns for the mortals, however, arriving as they were in such numbers and complaining of a famine.

“What could be causing such a terrible famine?” Sansa asked her husband when they were alone in the throne room, a problematic soul having just left for the Asphodel Meadows. Stannis had wanted to send it to the Fields of Punishment, but Sansa had thought that the soul’s actions in life had showed much evidence of remorse, and she had encouraged her husband to have mercy.

“Your mother is refusing to do her duty,” Stannis explained curtly.

Sansa felt her mouth gape open in horror. Her mother was the cause? What was she thinking? Her mother had always impressed on her the importance of doing one’s sacred duty! ‘Family’, ‘duty’ and ‘honour’ had been her mother’s most repeated words to Sansa. It was impossible to imagine that her mother would abandon her duties and forsake her honour as a goddess in such a drastic way.

“Why?” Sansa whispered, her eyes filling with helpless tears.

“She is attempting to force Robert to take you from me and return you to her side,” Stannis reluctantly admitted.

If it was possible, Sansa felt even worse at these news. How could her mother do this? It was too cruel. After she had _told_ her that she was unharmed, too! There was no reason to attempt to rescue her from Stannis. She was perfectly content to stay with him.

“I must speak with her,” Sansa cried out, feeling desperate. It was partly because of _her_ that the mortals were suffering. Because _she_ hadn’t been able to convince her mother that she was all right.

“You will do no such thing. This is a matter for your mother and Robert to sort out between them.”

“Please, Stannis! I feel responsible. I must do what I can to put an end to this.”

“I will not repeat myself, Sansa.”

Sansa fell silent, tears escaping her eyes and creating hot tracks as they made their way down her cheeks.

“If she sees you she will attempt to steal you from me,” Stannis explained, his voice softened by the sight of her tears.

Sansa resented him for thinking that her mother would do such a thing. “Just because that is what you did, it is not necessarily what my mother would do!”

She had made peace with her fate, and she enjoyed being Stannis’ wife, but she would never quite forgive him for the way he had abducted her from Nysa.

Stannis was looking at her with an expression she had never seen on his face before. He looked… _wounded._ She felt at once bitterly satisfied to see that her words had affected him and terribly saddened to have caused him pain.

She watched as he mastered himself, hiding his hurt feelings and turning his face into a mask of stone.

“My word is final.”

“Just as you say, my lord,” she accepted gracefully, her voice deceptively pleasant, “but I shall not willingly come to your bed until this famine has been resolved.”

Stannis’ mask of stone cracked and his eyes widened, a panicked expression taking hold.

Sansa knew that he would rather spend a few hundred years in Tartarus than ever hurt her or force her to his bed against her will. He was a demanding lover, but he _always_ listened to her when she asked to rest or told him she could bear no more. Withholding the pleasure that he could find in her body would not result in her rape, no matter how much he wanted her.

Staying away from his bed would be a punishment for her as well, but she knew it would be _torture_ for him as he desired her above all things, loved her above all things and needed her desperately and absolutely. He told her so himself when he unraveled in her arms each night.

“I will… discuss the matter with Robert.”

***

Stannis looked heartbroken when he told her that he had arranged a meeting with Robert and Catelyn at the foot of Mt. Olympus. She could tell that he believed that he would be returning to the Underworld alone after the meeting, but was too proud to admit his fear.

Sansa wanted to reassure him, to wrap her arms around him, thank him for his willingness to do this for her, and tell him that she would never allow herself to be kept away from him; but she could not. She was worried that if she came to him and so much as gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek, he would change his mind and lock her in his bedchamber for the rest of eternity until she became too weak to resist him.

“There must be something I can do to make sure that I will always be able to return…” Sansa muttered to herself as she walked around the fountain courtyard. She was wandering aimlessly, trying to find a solution to a seemingly impossible conundrum.

“There is something you could do,” a seductive voice that seemed to have no source whispered.

“Is someone here?” Sansa exclaimed, startled and ill at ease. She had thought herself alone!

“It is only I, Melisandre.” The red goddess revealed herself, sitting quite calmly on the edge of a nearby fountain.

Recalling that Stannis had said that Melisandre could not hurt her, Sansa willed her heart to stop beating quite so fast, and took a few calming breaths. Perhaps Melisandre really did have a solution to her problem?

“If you were to eat of the food of the dead, you would always be compelled to return to the Underworld,” Melisandre explained, a ripe pomegranate suddenly appearing in the palm of her hand. She held it up temptingly, raising an eyebrow at Sansa.

“Oh,” Sansa breathed, her eyes widening as she considered Melisandre’s words. It sounded like the perfect solution to the dilemma! She would go to the meeting with her mother, reassure her that she was perfectly fine, and if her mother tried to insist that she stay with her, Sansa would explain that she was _compelled_ to return, as she had eaten the food of the dead. Her mother could not argue with that! Her mother would also be forced to resume her duties, as no matter how many mortals her negligence killed, Sansa would never be able to return to her. There would be no point to continuing the famine.

Without considering the matter further, Sansa accepted the fruit and tore it open, the juice staining her fingers a deep red. How much would she need to eat? Would one seed suffice? Perhaps a few more, just to be certain?

Sansa ate six seeds in the end, feeling inexorably as if it were just the right number, leaving the rest of the fruit by the side of the fountain.

“You are truly a denizen of the Underworld now, my Queen,” Melisandre purred, a sly smile playing on her lips.

“Good. That is what I wanted,” Sansa said, lifting her chin proudly.

Melisandre bowed deeply and vanished as she had the last time Sansa had met her.

***

Stannis could not believe how cruel the fates could be; to be given a precious treasure like Sansa only to have her torn from his grasp a scarce few months after he found her…

It was unbearable.

He had taken to wandering among the wailing shades in the Vale of Mourning at night instead of tossing and turning in his empty bed. Sansa was stubbornly staying away, saying that it was not enough that he had arranged a meeting with Robert and Catelyn. The famine had to end before she would consider allowing his touch again.

He could not foresee a future where he could possibly come out the victor. Either Sansa would go back to her mother and end the famine, giving him back the power to touch her but increasing her distance from him so enormously that he would never be able to enjoy the privilege, or she would continue to stay with him in the Underworld and her mother would continue to let the mortals die, causing Sansa to refuse his touch.

Either way he would not be touching Sansa’s sweet lips with his fingertips, stroking her fragrant hair, admiring her perfect breasts, feeling her soft thighs part for him, or sinking into her searing heat. He would be alone once more in his gloomy kingdom. Worse off now that he was heartbroken on top of everything else.

The idea of cheating fate kept occurring to him. If he could have her sample the food of the dead, she would be irrevocably bound to the Underworld. She would never be able to leave his realm on a permanent basis and would always be compelled to return. It was perfect. Why, then, could he not stomach doing it to her? Every time he had come close over the past few days, something had stayed his hand. It did not seem honourable to compel her to stay in such a manner. It felt too much like trapping her.

Stannis felt that he had done enough damage when he had abducted her. He refused to trap her, too.

It was nearly time to go to the foot of Mt. Olympus when Stannis finally made his way from the Vale of Mourning to the corridor outside Sansa’s chamber. On his way there he ordered his servants to ready the horses and his golden chariot.

Sansa emerged just as he was about to knock and inquire after her well-being, and Stannis forgot how to breathe. His wife always looked beautiful, but she tended to favour a simple, unadorned style of dress that neither detracted from nor added much to her natural beauty,

Today she had obviously taken great care to present herself thoroughly as the Rich One’s queen.

Her peplos was of the deepest black silk and did not seem to reflect the light it caught, swallowing it up instead. There was a golden cord about her waist, and twin brooches of purest gold, fashioned into the shapes of flowers were visible at her shoulders. She was positively dripping in shining gold jewellery. Delicate rings on her fingers, snake-like coils of gold that wound their way around her upper arms, finely wrought earrings, a heavy, intricate necklace that featured both yellow and white gold narcissus flowers, and finally a matching crown of golden leaves and more white gold narcissus flowers. A king’s ransom worth of precious metals, all in all.

She smiled slightly when she saw him, her face a work of art. Her eyes lined with kohl, her lips stained red, her skin as flawless as ivory, though her high, sharp cheekbones cast shadows that beguiled and intrigued.

“Shall we, my lord?” she asked, her soft voice at odds with her fierce, regal look. Stannis nodded at her and offered his arm, mesmerised by the way her glossy sheet of hair moved as she walked towards him. It seemed to have a life of its own, brushed and oiled to a state of utter perfection.

He, himself, was draped in his usual uniform of a dark tunic hidden by a long, sweeping himation. Deciding that he should at least wear a symbol of his authority - since she was so beautifully decorated - he plucked an ornate golden crown from the air and placed it on his head. It felt heavy and cold, and he did not enjoy wearing it. Sansa seemed to like the way he looked in it, however, which was a point in its favour.

Having her so close - holding his arm, walking with her side pressed to his and enveloping him in her fresh, delectable scent - was excruciating. Knowing that he was most likely about to lose her forever, he wanted nothing more than to press her against the nearest wall, push himself into her and enjoy her one last time, feel her lips next to his ear as they whispered words of encouragement and desire, grab great handfuls of her sweet-scented hair, and leave a trail of love-bites from her throat to her breast. 

It was not to be.

Stannis clenched his jaw tightly and started to grind his teeth. He could ill afford such thoughts. They might cause him to lose focus, and he needed all of his wits about him for the meeting they were headed towards.

Sansa was silent and stoic throughout the journey, not even showing a hint of her usual delight when the horses took off from the ground. She looked determined and almost as if she were preparing herself for battle. He thought that a beautiful peplos and a treasure trove of precious gold made for an odd sort of armour, but she seemed to draw strength from her pretty baubles, just as he had always felt a certain measure of comfort when he donned his own heavy armour.

His winged steeds landed heavily at the foot of the great mountain of the gods, but Sansa and Stannis had no trouble keeping themselves upright. Sansa did not even stumble, he was pleased to note.

It was shocking to see how barren the ground was all around them. For as far as the eye could see the soil was an empty waste, the trees were skeletal and the waters frozen. No creatures scurried about their business and the sky was eerily silent.

As soon as Stannis set foot on the ground, a flash of lightning lit up the sky. Robert and Catelyn appeared a short distance away from the golden chariot. Stannis could hear Catelyn cry out at the sight of her daughter, but Sansa did not make a sound. She patiently waited for Stannis to walk around to her side of the chariot and help her step down. She gave him a regal smile and nod in thanks and gracefully took the arm he tentatively offered her, unsure whether she would appreciate the familiar gesture in front of Robert and Catelyn. He carefully maintained a neutral expression, trying not to show his relief at her acceptance and steeling himself for the upcoming conversation.

“Brother!” Robert boomed when Stannis and Sansa had made their way over to the other two deities, coming to a halt a short distance from the pair. Stannis stood facing Robert, Sansa faced Catelyn. Stannis did not fail to take note of the way both Robert and Catelyn seemed surprised at the way Sansa looked, their eyes widening as they took in the changes in her appearance and her rich garb. 

As soon as Sansa let go of his arm, Catelyn made a desperate sound and lunged for her daughter, throwing her arms around the Queen of the Underworld and hugging her tightly. Sansa allowed it, but Stannis noticed her stiffen nearly imperceptibly. Catelyn pulled her daughter to stand by her side, and now Stannis stood alone. _How appropriate._ Seeing the small frown on Sansa’s face made him feel a little better, but it was a cold comfort.

“Brother,” Stannis returned Robert’s greeting solemnly, nodding once.

“I must say I was surprised when you reached out to me. I never would have expected you to be so amenable to a meeting to discuss this matter,” Robert said cheerfully. As if this meeting weren’t among the worst moments of Stannis’ long life; a life which was already filled with awful moments...

“I am Lord of the Underworld, Robert. I had noticed that there was a famine ravaging the land. You will never hear me complain about receiving more subjects to rule, but this state of affairs cannot continue. Without living mortals to populate the earth no children will be born, and then where will we be?”

“I quite agree!” Robert looked happier and happier, eager to see the matter settled, “so you accept that Sansa will need to be returned to her mother, so that the famine may end?”

Stannis opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by his wife. Had anyone else presumed to interrupt him he would have dealt with that person mercilessly. As it was, he simply closed his mouth and gave Sansa his attention.

“I cannot return to my mother, Lord Robert,” she stated calmly, taking a step away from her mother’s arms. Catelyn had gone limp at Sansa’s words, disbelief etched into her features.

Catelyn was quick to recover, however, and she spoke to her daughter as if she were addressing a child. “It’s all right Sansa, Robert and I will protect you. Stannis can’t harm you any longer. He has no power here.”

Stannis raised an eyebrow at that pronouncement. There were few places in existence where he did not hold some power. He could easily snatch Sansa from under her mother’s nose, even as Robert looked helplessly on. Robert seemed to know this, because he hurried to continue the conversation.

“Why do you say that you cannot return, Lady Sansa?” Robert asked, a fatherly tone to his voice.

“I have eaten the food of the dead.”

This statement was met with shocked gasps from Robert and Catelyn, and Stannis felt his eyes widen despite his best effort to keep his expression stony. _How had Sansa known to eat the food of the dead?_ How had she known what it would mean? He had never explained it to her, and he had been so _certain_ that she only ever touched ambrosia and nectar while she had stayed with him.

“You did this!” Catelyn hissed at Stannis as soon as she had recovered from her shock.

“Stannis didn’t know!” Sansa defended him passionately from her mother’s accusation, standing now between her mother and him, separating them and turning herself into a shield.

“I am _Queen_ , mother. I have a duty to the Underworld. I _enjoy_ my new place at Stannis’ side and I will not tolerate being taken from him or my duties because you are unable to accept the fact that I have come into my own as a goddess. I ate six seeds from a pomegranate grown in the Underworld, and now I will always be compelled to go back to the Underworld, no matter what you say or do.”

“Sansa…!” Catelyn choked out, obviously overwrought.

Stannis felt like his world had been turned upside down. This meeting was turning out vastly differently than he had expected. Hearing Sansa defend her position as his queen, passionately claim that she enjoyed being at his side… It felt better than he could have imagined. Hearing the message she gave to Podrick had been one thing, but this - this was even better.

“Stannis was wrong to abduct me the way that he did, but would anyone have thought anything of it if it had been Robert? Would you have dared to withhold your blessings from the mortals if it had been Robert who took me?”

Stannis tried not to grimace at the idea of Robert abducting Sansa. It was an awful, terrible thought.

“Robert would never have done that to you!” Catelyn insisted. Stannis looked at Robert and did not miss the guilty look that flitted across his brother’s features. He narrowed his eyes and shot his brother a sharp look. Robert noticed Stannis’ glare and became a little sheepish.

“Ladies!” Robert shouted when it seemed that Sansa and Catelyn would continue arguing, “it does not matter at this point. We need to focus on solving the problem at hand.”

“There is nothing to solve. I have eaten the food of the dead. I belong to the Underworld. My mother will just have to accept it and move on,” Sansa said fiercely.

“This is _his_ doing. My sweet girl would never have spoken to me thus! He has turned her against me! Poisoned her mind!” Catelyn exclaimed, a note of hysteria creeping into her voice.

Stannis suppressed the urge to sigh. Everything was always _his_ fault.

Robert was looking very worriedly at Catelyn, clearly reluctant to say what he was about to say. “Be that as it may, Sansa is right. Not even I can remove her from the Underworld now, Catelyn.”

“Well, then I suppose the mortals will simply all starve,” Catelyn sniffed, looking murderously at Stannis.

“Mother! Is your heart made of stone?” Sansa gasped, clearly shocked and appalled.

Robert was rubbing his face and screwing his eyes shut the way he always did when he was thinking hard. Stannis did not really envy him the position of having to resolve this dilemma, and wondered what he would do if he were in Robert’s position. Nothing occurred to him. Catelyn and Sansa continued to squabble, their voices becoming high-pitched shrieks, but Stannis was focusing all his attention on Robert. His brother was muttering something under his breath, and Stannis could see his eyes moving from side to side underneath his eyelids.

Robert’s eyelids suddenly flew open. There was a triumphant gleam in his eyes that indicated that he had come up with some sort of solution.

Stannis swallowed nervously and felt his heart start to pound frantically in his chest. The next words out of Robert’s mouth would impact his future very heavily.

“Lady Sansa, how many seeds did you say that you ate?” Robert asked, interrupting an impassioned tirade on the rights of mortal kind, the duties of the gods, and honourable conduct.

“Six,” Sansa said, looking surprised.

“Then let it be known that starting today, the Lady Sansa, goddess of rebirth, will spend six months of the year at her mother’s side, followed by six months with her husband in the Underworld. The cycle will then repeat for all eternity,” Robert declared, a note of finality in his voice. Then, because he was a _coward,_ he disappeared in a flash of lightning.

Stannis did not know whether to laugh or cry. Half the year was more than he had dared to hope for before the start of the meeting, but he dreaded the prospect of six long months without Sansa. 

He ended up neither laughing nor crying, choosing instead to scowl moodily.

“Well,” Catelyn said, sounding a little offended at Robert’s hasty departure, “come along then, Sansa. We can get you into some more appropriate clothes. All that metal must be heavy!”

“Please, I’d like to say goodbye to my husband,” Sansa said softly, gently placing a hand on her mother’s shoulder. Catelyn sniffed and looked incredulous, but retreated a few steps to give him and and Sansa some privacy.

“I will miss you, my husband,” Sansa whispered, bringing her fingers up to his face, stroking his beard and touching his lips with her fingertips.

Stannis wanted to say something similar in return, but what he ended up blurting out was an abrupt question. “Why did you not consult me before eating the seeds?”

“It was my choice and I wanted you to be able to deny any involvement. You heard how quick my mother was to blame you.”

Stannis supposed that made sense, but he still wished that she had involved him in such a momentous decision. His curiosity was still not satisfied, however, more questions sprang to the tip of his tongue, and he could not help letting them escape. “How did you know that eating the food of the dead would tie you to the Underworld? Have you always known?”

Sansa smiled at him and continued to stroke his beard. He leaned into her touch, closing his eyes briefly to better concentrate on the sensation, committing it to memory so that he might come back to this moment in the long lonely months ahead.

“Melisandre told me,” Sansa admitted.

Stannis did not know why he hadn’t guessed. Melisandre was always going on about how she had foreseen that Sansa had an important role to play in the Underworld, popping up to remind him of this whenever he least expected. The goddess would have wanted to make sure that Sansa would stay and allow Melisandre’s vision to come to pass.

“Sansa, we must go. I am anxious to begin my duties anew!” Catelyn called. A glance at the older goddess confirmed that she was quite impatient indeed. Her arms were crossed across her chest and she was tapping one foot on the frozen ground.

“I will miss you, my lady,” Stannis heard himself whisper hoarsely, finally able to return her earlier sentiment.

“Perhaps you might visit me?” Sansa suggested, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“Perhaps,” Stannis tried to smile, but if he was successful he could not imagine it was anything but a very sad smile. He did not think that Catelyn would be very receptive to the idea of him visiting her daughter while Sansa was in her care.

Sansa surprised both Stannis and Catelyn - judging by the look on her face - by throwing her arms around Stannis’ neck and kissing him passionately. Stannis received the attention eagerly as it had been many days since she had kissed him quite so enthusiastically. He did his best to pour every ounce of his feeling for her into the kiss; his ardent desire, his fierce love, his despair and anguish at the idea of being parted from her…

Stannis was able to run the fingers of one hand through her silky hair one last time, but then she was gone. The lack of her warmth making him feel colder than he had believed possible, the absence of her sweet scent causing the air to seem dull and not worth the effort of breathing.

Sansa and Catelyn had disappeared and Stannis was left alone with his golden chariot, feeling as if his heart had been ripped from his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! Melisandre/Hecate wasn't a bad guy after all. If you're wondering what her vision for Sansa was then I can tell you that she saw what Robert would decide, and how it would mean seasons! Winter while Sansa was in the Underworld and summer while she was with Catelyn. She did what she had to do to help fate along.


	6. A Goddess Returns

Sansa was pleased with all she and her mother had accomplished in six months. Her powers, combined with her mother’s considerable gifts, had made short work of bringing nature back to life. The mortals had been ecstatic to see the springs and rivers start to flow again, the soil become soft and fertile, and leaves start to decorate the skeletal branches of the trees.

Catelyn had made sure to bless every seed that the mortals planted, and for the past month they had watched the mortals harvest vast bountiful crops of wheat and barley, and try their hardest to keep the branches of olive trees from snapping due to their heavy loads of the valuable fruit.

The two goddesses had traveled far and wide among the mortals to teach them how to plan ahead and warn them that the frost and the cold would be returning. They would be required to store their food and save it so that they would not starve in the meagre months. The mortals were not unintelligent, and they were soon adapting to this new idea of different seasons.

Sansa had also been explaining to the curious mortals that the Underworld was not a place to be feared, and that Stannis was not as terrifying as they all seemed to think. (The mortals never even spoke his true name, preferring to speak of him as the Rich One, or the Unseen One.) Sansa explained that now that she was Queen of the Underworld, she would be making it her business to help good, kind souls to be reborn if they so chose, and that she would diligently work to help those who suffered heartbreak in life to move from the Vale of Mourning to a better place. Her news were received with great joy, and the mortals questioned her at length about the sort of sacrifices she and her husband might like in the future. This amused Sansa because she doubted that Stannis would ever want for anything, but she tried to give them reasonable answers.

It was a bittersweet feeling to be returning to her husband at last. She had missed him dearly, but she had also enjoyed her time in the sun with her mother, teaching the mortals and helping them. She could not help but feel responsible for the hard times that would be returning to plague the mortals now that she would be going to stay in the Underworld.

“I still think you should reconsider,” Sansa said as her mother walked with her towards the entrance to the Underworld, the very same place where Sansa had gifted Jon Snow with his white wolf.

“Absolutely not. It breaks my heart to be without you, and the earth will reflect my feelings on the matter,” Catelyn said, her voice trembling and tears streaming down her face.

“I will return to you even if you do not freeze the earth while I am away, you know that, don’t you?” Sansa said imploringly as she embraced her loving, if overprotective, mother.

“I’m so glad to hear that, my darling child,” Catelyn whispered tearfully, “but I am afraid I simply cannot be swayed from my path.”

They had been having some variation of this conversation every day for a month and Sansa doubted she would ever be able to change her mother’s mind. Still, she had to _try._

“I understand,” Sansa sighed, pulling away from her mother’s arms.

“Farewell my sweet daughter,” Catelyn choked out, obviously having a great deal of trouble keeping her emotions in check. Seeing her mother’s tears was bringing tears to Sansa’s own eyes, and they fell into each other’s arms once more, sniffling and exclaiming over how much they would miss each other.

Finally it was Catelyn who straightened up and declared that they could not go on in such a manner. “I will go now, and we must attempt to carry on with - with dignity.”

Sansa nodded and wiped her tears away, straightening her spine and squaring her shoulders in determination. She watched until her mother was gone from view, taking deep calming breaths all the while. She stood still for a time, enjoying the warmth of the sun on her skin and thinking.

It was strange to feel so torn. While she had been with Stannis she had embraced her role as Queen, and she had enjoyed being treated as a fully realised goddess and not as a child. She was very much looking forward to rediscovering the pleasures that came along with her role as a wife, and she was also excited to explore the budding feelings that had been taking root when she had been forced to leave her husband’s side. At the same time she was truly distressed to leave the sun and the world above behind her. She would miss her mother, even though Catelyn still insisted on treating her like a child. Being treated like a child wasn’t always that bad, Sansa thought. It chafed when she wanted to assert her independence and her right to make her own choices, but when she just wanted to be comforted, cossetted, and loved unconditionally it was rather lovely. And living mortals were rather a more cheerful lot than the shades of the Underworld; she had to admit that.

Sansa suspected that this seasonal migration had been part of her fate, just as her relationship with Stannis had been fated. Why else would she enjoy both living in the Underworld with Stannis, but also above with her mother? Why else would she feel so at peace with being a child above, a woman below?

Feeling warm, content and ready to walk into her husband’s realm - her own realm - she turned to face the dark, gloomy entrance. She took one step, but froze when she heard a voice.

“Look what we have here, Theon. A goddess! The Rich One’s prized little lady from the look of her. I think she will do very well for me, don’t you think so?”

Sansa opened her mouth in surprise, looking around for the one who had spoken. It had been a mild, almost gentle sort of voice, but there had been no warmth to it. Instead there had been an icy bite to it; a sadistic sort of glee that could only just be heard if one paid very close attention.

“Ramsay and his Lady Sansa has a ring to it,” the voice that must belong to Theon replied. His voice did not sound as cruel as the one that apparently belonged to Ramsay. If Sansa had to guess, she would say that Theon was slightly cowed by Ramsay. There was a deferential note to his tone, at least.

When she finally spotted the two men, she wished she hadn’t looked for them. They were standing in a grove of trees nearby, partly hidden by the foliage. But they weren’t alone. They were surrounded by vicious-looking dogs that were all tense and ready to spring forth.

“Let’s hunt!” Ramsay gleefully exclaimed. As soon as he formed the words the dogs bounded forth, barking and howling madly, herding Sansa away from the safety of the Underworld and deep into the nearby forest.

Sansa had never been required to run as fast as she was running now. She was a goddess, and therefore untroubled by mortal concerns such as stitches in her side, or burning lungs, but she still felt the branches of trees slapping her face, and she hurt herself when she tripped on loose rocks and logs. Despite being a powerful goddess she was still frightened of sharp teeth tearing at her flesh, and she was terrified of the two men who followed the dogs. None of her powers were of any use when it came to defending herself from violence. Unless she could call forth another wolf? Would that work again? She didn’t really even know how she had done it that first time. She wished Stannis had taught her to open a cleft in the earth as she had seen him do, that would be terribly useful.

“Stannis! Stannis! Please help me!” she cried out in desperation, tripping one last time and falling unconscious at once as her head had unfortunately met with a large rock.

***

Stannis was pacing near Cerberus, the three heads of the large creature following him back and forth. The dog had given up on trying to get his master to play with him, but he was still watching him in the hope of being fed.

“Where is she?” Stannis muttered impatiently and a little worriedly. Why was she late? Had something delayed her? Was she in trouble?

_Had she decided to stay away for longer than six months?_

His insides felt colder than ice as he fretted over the idea that the long time apart had made Sansa forget his love, and decide that she would rather enjoy herself in the sun. He had occasionally ventured out into the world above to check on her over the past six months, making sure that neither Catelyn nor Sansa could see him. It really was very convenient to own a helmet of invisibility.

Sansa had always looked so _happy._ Seeing it made him feel a very difficult mixture of feelings. Pleasure at seeing his wife smile, anger at her for enjoying her time away from him, jealousy that she was spending her time with others - bestowing her smiles and her sweet conversation on others - and anguished heartbreak at the idea that she might have forgotten him; that she might be happier or better off without him.

“If she is not here soon I will go and fetch her!” he raged miserably at Cerberus. The dog’s three heads all tilted to the right, giving him baffled looks.

Stannis knew he wouldn’t go and fetch her. He couldn’t do that to her again. Not now. Not after getting to know her and love her so dearly.

He sat down on a nearby rock and hid his face in his hands, feeling utterly hopeless and full of self-pity. Was there any god or man in the three realms feeling more wretched than him? He doubted it.

Suddenly he heard Sansa’s voice as if she were standing beside him. The desperation in her tone and her words made every hair on his body stand on end, and the misery he felt changed to white-hot fury.

“Stannis! Stannis! Please help me!”

He could sense that she was not far away, so he summoned his helmet to him and hurried to follow his instinct to Sansa’s side.

***

When Sansa awoke her hands were bound behind her back and she was unable to discern where she was. It was dark, but not completely pitch black. She felt relatively unhurt, and she was glad that the dogs had not torn her flesh to shreds. As an immortal she would have been able to recover from the assault, but it would have taken time, and it would have been painful.

“Hello?” Sansa called, wishing to know whether she was by herself.

There was no answer, but she could hear footsteps; faint at first, but drawing nearer. A door opened and two men entered. One was carrying a lantern which allowed her to see that her captors were the same men that had chased her in the forest. Her heart started to beat faster and her stomach clenched up uncomfortably.

“My bride awakens!” Ramsay cried out cheerfully, a mockery of a smile playing on his lips.

Sansa felt a wave of fury and hatred unlike any feeling she had ever experienced wash over her. How dare this _mortal_ treat her so abominably? Did he not realise what would happen to him? She was a _goddess._ Her wrath would be terrible and eternal. She would make sure he went straight to Tartarus!

“I am not your bride,” Sansa said calmly, her fury burning cold as ice and hardening her until until she was as rigid as steel. “I am the Queen of the Underworld and consort of Lord Stannis, I am the ruler of Elysium, and the Goddess of Rebirth. Unhand me, or suffer the consequences.”

“I love it when they fight back,” Ramsay laughed, elbowing Theon in the ribs. A pained expression appeared on Theon’s face, but he said nothing. “What consequences do you speak of, my fair bride?”

“Believe me, I will find a way to cast you into the pit of Tartarus,” Sansa promised, narrowing her eyes at the dark-haired man who presumed to steal her for himself, “And I warn you, my husband has not seen me for six long months. He loves and cherishes me above all things and we were to be reunited today. He is the one who decides which punishments those who end up in Tartarus face. You have delayed our reunion, mortal. I doubt you will find him merciful.”

Ramsay seemed amused at her words, and was coming nearer, bringing his face close to her own.

“Ramsay, I’m not sure this is such a good idea…” Theon whispered, obviously worried.

“Nonsense, I’m just going to give my bride a little kiss. You can watch me, Theon, and see how it’s done!” 

Sansa was horrified, but Ramsay took hold of her head and held her fast as he pressed his foul lips against hers. The same lips she had wetted with water from the Styx on her wedding day, the lips Stannis had kissed right after he swore an oath to curse any man who dared touch her to eternal agony in Tartarus.

It was almost as if the mere thought of her wedding day and the oath Stannis had sworn had power, for suddenly Ramsay was no longer kissing her. He was crumpled on the floor at her feet, shrieking as snakes were hissing and coiling around his arms and legs, keeping him from being able to rise up again. Theon had fallen to his knees, snakes attacking him as well, the lantern he had been holding smashed on the ground next to him. It was almost pitch dark again, but Sansa could still make out the outlines of the two men at her feet and hear their cries of fear and pain. She, however, was no longer bound, and she could _sense_ her husband’s presence.

“Stannis?” she asked, wondering if he was wearing his helmet of invisibility, or whether he was hiding in the shadows. He answered her question by appearing by her side, his helmet under his arm.

“Are you hurt?” he asked urgently, reaching for her face and stroking her cheek with a thumb.

“No, I hit my head when I was running away from these insolent mortals, but I am otherwise unharmed,” she told him, unable to hide the relief in her voice. He had found her! He would help her bring the two mortals to justice and then they would finally be together again. At the moment she felt that it had been eternity since she had seen him, not six months.

“Good, it would have displeased me greatly to find you hurt,” Stannis growled, obviously for the benefit of the two cowering men who whimpered and mumbled; incoherent with fear due to the presence of the Lord of the Underworld. “How did you summon the snakes?” he then asked conversationally.

“I thought you brought them,” Sansa answered in surprise.

“No, I am not the one who had been known to summon animals to their side,” Stannis said, raising an eyebrow, “I arrived just in time to see the serpents appear.”

“Oh,” Sansa said, blinking rapidly in amazement. Had she really brought those venomous creatures into being? “I mean, I’m not really sure how I summoned them. I just didn’t like what that awful mortal was doing, and it just… happened.”

“Indeed,” Stannis deadpanned.

Sansa didn’t want to think about it any longer. She was tired and she wanted to go to the Underworld where she could feel _safe_. “Let us go home, Stannis. We can take these two to Tartarus and then retire to the palace. I feel quite exhausted!” Sansa was eager to leave the dark room she found herself in and hoped that her husband would agree to do as she asked.

“As you wish, my lady.”

***

Stannis handed the two snake-bitten mortals to the furies and told them to keep the men ‘entertained’ in Tartarus until he could be bothered to figure out suitable punishments for them. He explained that he had more urgent matters to attend to, and gave Sansa a heated look that made her breath catch. Suddenly she did not feel quite so exhausted.

Sansa was glad that she was not required to go much further into Tartarus than the gaping maw that was the entrance. She avoided this place as much as she could, and was relieved when Stannis finished speaking with the furies and came back over to her. He was still looking at her the way a starving man looks at a meal, and it was making Sansa hungry, too.

She had been without a man’s touch for more than six months, because she had not allowed Stannis to touch her in the days before the meeting with Robert and her mother. She missed the pleasure her husband could give her and she could tell that he missed lying with her even more. It was obvious both because of the way he was looking at her, but also because he was almost _dragging_ her towards the palace. She had tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow as she so often did when she walked with him, but instead of slowing his pace to match her considerably daintier steps, he was striding along with his long legs and forcing her to almost run to keep up. Thankfully she was tall, too. Had her legs been any shorter, she _would_ have been running.

As soon as they entered the entrance hall of the palace, Stannis lost his patience for dragging her along. Without really even stopping, he somehow bent and picked her up, holding her under her knees and supporting her back.

“Stannis!” she cried out, attempting to sound scandalised by his blatant desire, but probably coming off as amused instead.

“I have a duty to you, as your husband,” he rasped, voice thick with lust.

Sansa was confused for a moment. Why was he talking about duty when he was obviously about to ravish her? She was about to ask him to clarify when she realised that he saw it as his duty as her husband to ravish her. Judging by the look on his face, it was a duty he rather relished. Perhaps she should explain that a duty one enjoyed should really be viewed as more of a… perk.

“What of my duty to you, my lord?” she asked instead as he marched along the corridor that lead to his bedchamber.

“You came back to me,” he said simply, as if that absolved her of all her other duties and responsibilities.

Sansa didn’t know what to say to that. She doubted that he was talking about anything quite as simple as her merely returning to the Underworld. Eating the pomegranate seeds had ensured that she would have to return regularly. The passion behind his words hinted at a much deeper meaning, a meaning of such depth that Sansa could hardly fathom it.

“Of course I did,” she whispered softly just as he shut the door to his chamber behind them and took her towards his bed.

Her words seemed to have been the right ones, for Stannis made a strange choked noise in the back of his throat that Sansa thought indicated that he was very pleased, and before she could blink she was on the bed, her limbs tangled with his, his lips seeking hers and finding them parted and eager for his kisses.

Stannis made short work of her simple white chiton while he kissed her deeply, tasting her as if it were their first kiss all over again, moaning into her mouth and tickling her face with his soft beard. She pulled at his tunic in her turn and soon naked skin slid against naked skin; the feeling of it dry and smooth as they were not yet sticky with the sweat of exertion.

She could feel herself growing very damp between her thighs and Stannis was reaching to touch her there, groaning in pleasure when he found her ready for him. He guided his rigid manhood to her opening, but did not push himself inside. He ran the head repeatedly over her wet folds, watching her face hungrily as he did, eager to watch as she widened her eyes, and parted her lips in order to gasp his name. The feel of him was wonderful and welcome and _incredibly frustrating._

“Stannis, please! I need you inside,” she begged at last, when it seemed he was content to torment her for eternity.

But when he finally sank into her, a grateful moan fell from his lips like a prayer, proving that he had been just as eager as she. Sansa could not help moaning herself at the blinding, intense pleasure. It was a glorious awakening of her long repressed senses. She felt like she had been mired in a fog for months and months, and now she could suddenly see the light.

He began to move, slowly at first, seemingly just marveling at the feel of her. He was also kissing her neck in a very distracting way, his beard tickling her. She tried to angle her hips and move herself in a way that indicated her eagerness for faster, more insistent thrusts, but he was having none of it.

“My wife, my beautiful wife, my precious Sansa, my only love…” he whispered against the skin of her neck in between hot, open-mouthed kisses and worshipful licks and nips.

Hearing his words brought about a tidal wave of reciprocal emotion within her heart. It was strange. She had never expected to find herself in love with her husband. She had thought she would go through eternity knowing only what it was to _be loved_ and not what it was to _love._ Of course she loved her mother and her friends, but the love one was meant to give to a husband was different.

Sansa had expected to grow to love her role as Queen; her ability to heal and purify souls and allow them a chance at a second life. And after her wedding night (nights?) she had understood that she would definitely always love the attention she received from her husband. His adoring, reverent touch had seen to that.

But to love him? The god she could still not quite bring herself to forgive for her abduction? The solemn god who was so different from the gods she had admired from afar in her youth?

That was a startling development. Not an unwelcome one, however.

He was still thrusting so slowly, deliberately driving her mad with need, her newly discovered feelings intensifying every pleasurable feeling in her body. She had would not have believed it possible, but understanding her love for her husband was making his touch feel even _better._

Eventually he gave into her increasingly demanding cries for more, surging powerfully forwards again and again, steadily and forcefully until she thought she might break with the pleasure of it. As ever, he took her past her breaking point, let her breathe so she might piece herself back together, and then began the process of shattering her all over again. He never quite stopped, but he slowed when he wanted her to rest a little, or changed their position.

Sansa’s mind tried to process her feelings towards her husband as their bodies twined together. Hers had been a remarkable epiphany that deserved some contemplation, and what better time to reflect on love than when making love? 

Their lovemaking went from passionate to gentle, sometimes even becoming rather rough, and through it all Sansa clung to Stannis with her hands, or wrapped her legs around him to bring him close. She kissed him ceaselessly, and sighed his name as he filled her again and again. She knew that he would not stop until she seriously begged him to, and she found herself hoping that she would be able to last a very long time.

***

Gendry was exhausted. It had taken him months and months, but he was finally on his twelfth task. Nothing difficult. He just had to fetch the three-headed guard dog of the Underworld and take him out for a stroll. No problem.

Well, except there was just one little niggle. The dog was refusing to come with him. Finding the dog had been easy enough; it was at the entrance, after all. Getting it to _go_ anywhere, however? Impossible! Gendry knew what he needed to do. He had to go and speak to the Unseen One and ask for permission to take the dog for a short visit to the world above. Perhaps if he explained about the tasks he needed to complete, the intimidating god might take pity on him?

Gendry had shared a drink with Jon Snow a few months back, and Jon seemed to think that the king and Queen of the Underworld weren’t all that bad… 

Well, he’d come all this way. Might as well try his hand at reasoning with Lord Stannis. It couldn’t be much harder than defeating the Lernaean Hydra with that annoying crab always pinching his feet.

Gendry wandered deep into the Underworld. Thankfully he had an obol to give to the ferryman, otherwise he would never even have made it across the Acheron! The ferryman had been very helpful, too. He had explained that the rulers of the Underworld would most likely be in their throne room at this time of day, and that he should just head for the palace and ask one of the servants for directions. He also warned him against eating anything while he was in this realm, explaining that he’d become bound to the Underworld if he ate of the food of the dead.

Unfortunately, Gendry had managed to become quite hopelessly lost on his way from the bank of the Acheron to the palace. He was pretty sure it had been a mistake to walk into this really quite dark and scary part of the realm, but he was no coward. He had faced so many fearsome things in the course of his quest that he was quite sure nothing could really upset him at this point.

“I am Reek, it rhymes with weak, I am Reek, it rhymes with leek, I am Reek, it rhymes with freak...”

Perhaps he had been wrong. The person chanting that strange rhyme was coming pretty close to upsetting Gendry. He decided to try to find the source of the strange chant as it did not seem like it was coming from a long way away.

Gendry found ‘Reek’ sitting on a boulder, staring straight ahead and rocking himself backwards and forwards slightly. When Gendry looked in the direction Reek was staring in, he saw a grisly sight that he immediately averted his eyes from. A dark-haired man was in the middle of flaying himself, apparently too hoarse to be capable of making any more sounds, though his mouth was wide open and clearly still attempting to scream.

“Ugh, why are you watching that?” Gendry asked Reek.

“I must sit by and watch because I stood by and watched,” Reek explained. It made no sense to Gendry, but he thought that he should probably try to take this wretched creature away with him. It couldn’t be good for a person to sit and watch something like - like _that._

“Mustn’t leave. Mustn’t ever leave. This is my punishment. I am Reek, it rhymes with weak...”

Gendry shook his head. He didn’t think anyone deserved such a punishment. Without really thinking it through, he pulled Reek to his feet. Gendry was a very strong man, but he was surprised at how much strength he needed to use in order to free Reek from the rock he was sitting on. A terrible sound tore through the darkness that surrounded them when Gendry was finally able to get Reek to stand up. When Gendry looked at the boulder Reek had been sitting on he could see that skin, sinew and muscle had been left behind. It turned his stomach, but it couldn’t be helped now.

“Wait here, I’m going to see if I can free your friend,” Gendry said to Reek, “don’t sit anywhere.”

Gendry approached the flayed man cautiously. He did not seem capable of communicating with Gendry, so he did not try to speak to him. The man had flayed the skin off most of the lower half of his body already and was currently working on his abdomen. Gendry decided the first thing to do would be to take the knife away, but as soon as he touched the knife, the earth started to shake ominously. Gendry ignored this and tried to pull the knife from the flayed man’s grasp. The ground shook so violently that Gendry was obliged to let the knife go because he simply could not keep himself upright. He sank down to one knee in order to keep his balance, and wondered why the earth had suddenly decided to move. As soon as Gendry was no longer touching the knife, the ground became still once more. Gendry decided to see if that would happen every time he touched the knife, or whether the earthquake had been a coincidence. A few experiments later Gendry was convinced that the earth shook every time he attempted to help the flayed man in any way.

“I’m sorry, but I do not think I can help you,” Gendry said to the flayed man, feeling very queasy at the sight of the man’s single-minded focus on his task. Their eyes met and Gendry was shocked at the look the flayed man wore. He would have expected despair and agony, and to some extent that was what he saw. But there was also a burning hatred in those eyes would haunt Gendry’s nightmares for years to come. Gendry backed away from the flayed man and walked back over to Reek.

“Let’s go, I need to find the palace. You wouldn’t happen to know where it is?”

“My name is Reek, it rhymes with leek…”

“Of course. How about we go that way?” Gendry picked a direction at random and started walking. Reek trailed behind him, muttering his rhymes under his breath.

It took a long time, but eventually the two of them found the palace. Gendry did not attempt to help anyone else he ran into, as Reek was quite enough to be getting along with. (He only stopped to kill one eagle. He hadn’t been able to stomach watching it eat the entrails of a man who still lived to feel the agony of it.) After they left what Gendry guessed had to be Tartarus, he mostly saw shades, and they couldn’t really be helped. Not by him, at least.

Gendry took several deep calming breaths before he walked into the throne room of the palace. A servant had given him directions and informed him that although Lord Stannis was unavailable at the moment, Lady Sansa would be able to see him.

“Stay close to me and don’t wander off,” Gendry said quietly to Reek before he started walking towards the two thrones on the dais. The black throne was empty, but the throne that shone and glittered like ice was occupied by a stunningly beautiful goddess. By the time Gendry was close enough to see her properly, he had completely lost the capacity for coherent speech. He felt his mouth hang open as he drank in the sight of her mane of lustrous red hair, her smooth ivory skin, her lush lips, and sapphire blue eyes. She was draped in a simple chiton of rich, shining fabric that reminded Gendry of silver and on her head she wore a beautiful crown that seemed to be made of precious metal flowers. It must have been forged by a true master craftsman, Gendry thought appreciatively.

“Greetings, mortal,” Lady Sansa said in a beautiful, soft voice. There was a musical quality to it that Gendry immediately became entranced by. He had to shake his head slightly to clear it of the haze that seemed to have settled over his brain.

“G-greetings, my lady,” Gendry finally stammered, feeling very foolish. Why was he here, again?

“Why have you come before me this day?”

“Er…” he trailed off, thinking furiously, “Cerberus! I - uh - I wondered if I could borrow Cerberus. Just for a little while. It’s for a sort of task I’m supposed to do.”

“A task?” Sansa looked curious and was clearly angling for a proper explanation. Gendry took a very deep breath and started telling her the long, tragic story of how the goddess Cersei had forced him to murder his own siblings, many of them just babies, because she wanted to get rid of Robert’s illegitimate children. Gendry was supposed to perform all these tasks to redeem himself of his awful sins against his own brothers and sisters, and to win immortality.

“How awful!” Lady Sansa exclaimed, obviously sympathetic to Gendry’s plight. It gave him hope that she would help him.

“So do you think I could borrow your dog for a little while? I’ll put him right back when I’m done.”

“I’m not sure Stannis would approve... “ Lady Sansa hedged, her brow furrowing delicately, “but I think it should be all right. If it’s only for a little while. I’ll just ask one of the furies to mind the entrance while Cerberus is away.”

Gendry could not believe his luck. Jon Snow had been right! Talking to the Queen of the Underworld was not such a difficult or frightening thing to do.

“Now that we have settled that, would you liked to tell me who your friend is?” Lady Sansa asked, raising an eyebrow expectantly.

Oh. It had probably been pretty rude to bring Reek and not even introduce him. Gendry blushed at the gentle reproof and hurried to drag Reek forward and explain how he had found him sitting on a boulder, chanting his strange rhyme.

“His name is not Reek,” Lady Sansa said after listening to Gendry’s story, “his name is Theon, and he was in Tartarus for a reason.” She was frowning slightly, looking at Reek with a critical expression on her face.

“What did he do?” Gendry asked before he could check the impulse.

Lady Sansa’s features seemed to freeze into a stony mask of disapproval. “He was accessory to my abduction, and watched and did nothing as his accomplice, Ramsay, called me his bride and kissed me against my will.”

Gendry blanched. Ramsay had to be the flayed man. No wonder Gendry had not been able to help him. The man had dared touch a goddess - the queen consort of Lord Stannis - against her will. He was only surprised that the earth hadn’t done anything more than shake when he had attempted to take Ramsay’s knife!

Lady Sansa was looking at Theon, assessing the damaged wreck he had become with harsh, judgmental eyes. As she took in the changes the man must have undergone while he had sat on the boulder, her eyes softened slightly.

“Perhaps eternity is too long a time to keep him in Ramsay’s company,” she said at length, pursing her lips slightly, “why is he calling himself Reek?”

“My name is Reek, it rhymes with freak…” Theon babbled, a terrified expression on his face.

Lady Sansa seemed annoyed by this nonsense and stood up from her throne, descending gracefully from the dais and walking right up to Theon. She touched his cheek with her hand, and he immediately stopped babbling, straightened up a little and looked around with eyes that no longer seemed tortured and mad. When he spotted Lady Sansa in front of him, he immediately fell to his knees in front of her, bowing his head all the way to the floor. She did not bother to tell him to get up, but turned around and swept back to her throne.

“Now, why were you calling yourself Reek?” Lady Sansa asked Theon calmly.

“It is Ramsay’s name for me. Each day when he becomes whole again after flaying the skin from his body on the previous day, he talks to me before the - before the screaming starts. I think he took a measure of comfort in torturing me the best he could before his own pain prevented him from being able to.”

Gendry was surprised by how steady Theon sounded. His breath only hitched once. The man was still kneeling, but he had looked up from the floor so that his words might carry all the way to Lady Sansa’s ears.

“I see,” Lady Sansa said, a small frown marring her ivory features.

“Perhaps Theon has been punished enough?” Gendry timidly suggested. It really did seem like overkill to put the man through more of such suffering. His crime had been great, of course, but not nearly as great as Ramsay’s crime.

“I swear I will mend my ways, my lady, I will never again follow a man like Ramsay. I will follow a righteous path. Upon my honour!” Theon cried out, clearly desperate for his freedom, but also very sincere.

“You will swear by the River Styx that you will do as you say, and you will never give me reason to regret my decision. Otherwise you are going right back to your boulder. Do you understand?”

“Yes, my lady. I swear it by the River Styx! I will follow a righteous path and never give you cause to regret my release from Tartarus. Thank you, my lady,” Theon’s voice quivered, but he managed to keep from sobbing with relief. Gendry could tell it was a close thing, though.

The beautiful goddess focused her attention back on Gendry, and he felt his heart speed up at having her intense blue gaze fixed on him. “Tell Cerberus that he has my leave to go with you. If you do not return him within three days he will probably eat you.”

Gendry tried to keep his face from falling, he wasn’t entirely sure if Lady Sansa was serious. There was a small amused smile playing on her lips, and her eyes were sparkling.

“Of course. Thank you, my lady,” he said, bowing deeply.

“You may go. The servants will give you obols for the ferry if you need them.”

Both Gendry and Theon bowed some more and began to back away. Gendry could not believe how well the meeting had gone. It had been a nerve-racking to face a powerful goddess and boldly ask her for favours that she had no reason to grant, it amazed him that he was walking out completely unscathed! He was careful not to celebrate his success too soon, however. He still needed to find his way back to the entrance of the Underworld and convince a fearsome, three-headed guard dog to do his bidding.

***

Sansa sometimes convinced Stannis to walk with her in Elysium in the evenings. Today was once such day and Sansa was using the opportunity to tell Stannis of the interesting visit she had received in the throne room a few hours earlier.

“You did well,” Stannis said with a nod, having listened attentively to her account of the visit.

Sansa let out the breath that she had been holding. “I’m glad you think so, I was not certain whether you would approve of my actions,” Sansa said, audibly relieved.

“I admit that I find it a little surprising that you did not object more fiercely to Gendry’s rescue of Theon, but it sounded like Ramsay was finding some measure of comfort in torturing Theon even as he endured his own punishment. One could choose to look at Theon’s removal as a further punishment for Ramsay.”

“Oh, I hadn’t really considered that.” Sansa couldn’t help the small smirk of satisfaction that appeared on her face at the idea of her mercy towards Theon harming Ramsay.

“As for lending Cerberus to the world above for a few days… I suppose the mutt could do with the exercise,” Stannis said with a slight shrug, “in any case, you should not worry over whether I would approve of your actions or not. You are Queen. You may do as you please.”

Sansa smiled fondly at Stannis. “I know, but I do not want to go against your wishes if I can help it. The Underworld has been your sole responsibility for so long… I still feel rather an interloper at times.”

“The sooner you start to act as Queen, the sooner that feeling will pass,” Stannis advised seriously.

“You’re probably right,” Sansa sighed happily, pressing herself closer to her husband’s side as they walked, inhaling his scent. The ghostly asphodel blooms of the Asphodel Meadows did not really have any sort of true floral scent to them, but if they did, they would smell like Stannis: a little mysterious, undefinable and sharp.

They walked in comfortable silence for a while, the shades of Elysium making way for them quietly.

“It’s hard to believe it’s almost time for me to go to my mother’s side again,” Sansa said after a while, breaking the silence.

“Don’t remind me,” Stannis groaned.

“I believe I will miss you even more fiercely this time around,” Sansa said wistfully, resting her head on Stannis’ shoulder for a moment.

“Why do you say that?” Stannis asked, obviously attempting to sound less curious than he truly was. Nonchalance was not something he was able to pull off well.

“Because now I understand that I love you,” Sansa explained, not attempting to mask her amused fondness.

Stannis stopped walking and stood facing her, searching her eyes for any sign of untruth. “How - what - I mean, for how long have you understood this?”

“Almost since my first day back,” Sansa admitted shyly.

Instead of saying anything, Stannis wrapped his arms tightly around her, bringing her body close to his, and kissed her fiercely. His beard tickled her upper lip, but she did not mind. She was more focused on the wonderful sensations his tongue was eliciting, moaning as they tasted one another in a way she doubted she would ever grow tired of.

Stannis broke the kiss after a while to give her a piercing, questioning look. Sansa knew he was wondering why she hadn’t said anything to him about it before.

“I wasn’t really sure how to tell you,” she said apologetically, feeling more than a little silly about her decision to keep quiet about her epiphany. Getting the words out had been easy once she just went ahead and _said_ it. “You never really talk about it, either,” she added as an afterthought. Not really trying to make an excuse for herself, but drawing attention to the fact that he hadn’t said anything about his feelings yet.

Stannis cleared his throat uncomfortably. “I had thought I made my feelings quite clear.”

“You have, and you do,” Sansa said, kissing him briefly, “but I wouldn’t mind hearing you say the words.”

“I love you, Sansa,” he immediately declared, his voice hoarse and almost broken with emotion.

Sansa buried her face in the crook of his neck, her heart pounding in her chest and blood rushing to her cheeks. She felt dizzyingly happy, and almost unable to believe how kind the fates had turned out to be.

The two deities ended up making love right there in Elysium, thoroughly embarrassing the shades that had not been smart enough to escape the general vicinity when it became obvious where things were headed.

When Sansa complained that she would have permanent grass stains on her skin, Stannis picked her up and carried her to his bed. They stayed up the whole night. Thankfully the servants had more sense than the shades, and made sure to steer well clear of the part of the palace where Stannis’ bedchamber was located.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure how familiar you guys are with Greek mythology, but Ramsay and Theon's attempt at abducting Sansa is based on the story of Pirithous and Theseus. They did indeed try to take Persephone from Hades, and very denied quite harshly. There were snakes and there was eternal torture. But Heracles did end up rescuing Theseus from Tartarus eventually. Pirithous, however, is probably still rotting away in some pit for daring to try to take Persephone as his wife. Sucks to be him.
> 
> This is basically the last chapter of the story, but there is a light-hearted epilogue to come.


	7. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to the lovely [AuburnWolf](http://archiveofourown.org/users/AuburnWolf) for making this [awesome graphic](http://aureaphoenix.tumblr.com/post/130134589032/my-hadespersephone) of Stannis and Sansa as Hades and Persephone and sending me the link!

Margaery and Loras smiled knowingly at each other when they saw the king and Queen and the Underworld arrive together at Olympus to attend Gendry’s _’Welcome to Immortality’_ party.

“I knew they’d make a good match,” Loras said, a note of satisfaction in his voice.

“Don’t be stupid, _I_ was the one who told you they’d hit it off.”

“Be that as it may, they’re clearly smitten with each other,” Loras said, restraining himself from rolling his eyes.

The two beautiful deities were silent for a while as they observed the most recently married couple in the pantheon.

“Is it just me, or does she look different?” Margaery asked after a while.

“Well, she’s definitely dressed differently,” Loras observed, his eyes raking over the dark colours of Sansa’s peplos and all the jewellery she was sporting.

“Of course she’s dressed differently, she’s Queen now,” Margaery rolled her eyes dramatically, “I _meant_ her face looks different, dumb dumb.”

Loras peered more closely at Sansa’s face, narrowing his eyes slightly and tilting his head this way and that. “Her cheekbones…” he trailed off uncertainly, not sure how to put the slight changes in Sansa’s appearance into words.

“She looks more mature. There’s less puppy fat, and her hair is darker,” Margaery summed up, eyeing the younger goddess critically.

“Yes!” Loras nodded emphatically.

“Do you think she looks more beautiful than me?” Margaery sprang the question on him so quickly that he was still nodding because of his previous ‘yes’. Feeling himself blanch, he quickly switched over to shaking his head, squeaking out a terrified “No!” as he did.

Margaery gave him a suspicious look, but it soon changed into a satisfied smile. Loras breathed a subtle sigh of relief when he saw that he had convinced her.

“I’m going to find out what she did to change her appearance like that. It can’t just be her age, it’s only been about a year!” Margaery had a determined glint in her eye. Loras knew better than to argue when Margaery looked that determined, so he simply trailed after her as she made a beeline for the King and Queen of the Underworld.

“Congratulations to you both!” Margaery said enthusiastically when she had reached the couple, “I do so enjoy a love-match,” she added with a wide smile.

“Thank you, Lady Margaery,” Sansa said politely, inclining her head respectfully. Stannis was silent, only raising an eyebrow slightly.

“You simply must tell me your secret!” Margaery exclaimed, never one to beat around the bush.

“What secret?” Sansa looked genuinely baffled.

“The secret of your enhanced beauty, of course! You’ve changed since last I saw you.”

To Loras’ surprise it was Stannis who answered Margaery’s slightly impertinent (if not downright rude) question.

“It’s a special beauty ointment made of the blooms from the Asphodel Meadows,” Stannis said, a mysterious smirk playing on his lips. Loras thought that was _highly_ suspicious, but Margaery seemed to be taking Stannis’ words at face value.

“Oh! But I must try it!” Margaery said excitedly, a greedy glint in her honey-coloured eyes.

Sansa opened her mouth, perhaps to answer Margaery, perhaps to ask her husband about something or other, Loras would never know. Stannis answered Margaery again and Sansa’s lips sealed as soon as he started to speak.

“I’m afraid I’ve decreed it to be exclusively for Sansa’s use,” Stannis snapped forbiddingly, a hard look on his features. Nothing unusual about that, Loras supposed. Stannis always looked rather harsh and ruthless. It was the scowl and all the teeth-grinding that gave that impression, Loras thought.

Margaery’s look of offense in response to Stannis’ words was pretty par for the course, too. She was always taking offense to _something._

“Well! I never!” she exclaimed, her eyebrows almost disappearing into her hairline, “let’s go, Loras.” She sniffed, turned around and walked off in a huff. Loras shot Sansa an apologetic look and hurried after Margaery.

As soon as they were out of earshot of Stannis and Sansa, Margaery started furiously plotting ways to get her hands on the beauty ointment that Loras was not entirely convinced actually existed.

***

“Why did you lie to Lady Margaery?” Sansa asked Stannis when they were lying next to each other in bed, having returned from Olympus some hours earlier. “You know, about the beauty ointment?”

“Did you want her to know it was part of the transformation you went through when I took your maidenhead?” he asked dryly.

Sansa blushed and ducked her head. “No, I suppose not.”

“That’s why I lied,” Stannis shrugged, “additionally, I think it will be amusing to see what sort of plot she cooks up to try to steal it from you.” Stannis knew Margaery well. He knew she would be unable to resist something like the beauty ointment he had invented. She’d be unable to rest until she got her greedy little hands on it.

Sansa stared at him with wide eyes, almost as if she were seeing him for the first time. It made him want to pull her astride him and watch her eyes widen even further as he pushed into her. She really did have the most _expressive_ eyes.

“You deliberately set her up?” Sansa asked, gaping at him now. Her parted lips were giving him all sorts of lewd ideas… “Isn’t that _dishonest_?” she continued, blinking at him owlishly.

“I can have a beauty ointment made for you out of the blooms from the Asphodel Meadows if it makes you feel better?” Stannis offered vaguely, distracted by his beautiful wife. He started to stroke her thigh where he could reach, feeling himself harden in anticipation of taking her.

“Maybe - _oh_ \- I’m just surprised you would do something like that. Intentionally setting Margaery up like that. It doesn’t seem very like - mm - you.”

Stannis didn’t feel even a little bad about distracting Sansa from what she was saying by kissing her neck and breasts; he was only slightly irritated that she hadn’t been _more_ distracted. He considered it a personal failure when she was able to finish a sentence with his lips on her breasts.

“Well, consider this: what is more dishonest? Telling a story about a beauty ointment or attempting to steal it?” he spoke quickly, eager to get back to rapidly flicking his tongue over Sansa’s nipple. It made her squeal in the most delightful way.

“I can’t remember why we’re talking about this,” Sansa said, moaning and parting her legs invitingly.

Stannis thrust himself inside of her, and he too immediately forgot about any mention of beauty ointment, asphodel blooms, or Margaery.

***

As both Stannis and Sansa had forgotten all about the beauty ointment that Stannis had invented to trick Margaery, it was quite an amusing surprise for them when a young man called Olyvar showed up months later, claiming to be Loras’ lover on a quest to appease Margaery for offending her in one way or another by collecting some of Sansa’s beauty ointment.

“How did you offend the fair Lady Margaery?” Sansa asked curiously, buying a little time. Stannis used the time to surreptitiously summon a servant and quietly bid him prepare a box with a sleeping powder inside of it, thinking Sansa could give it to Olyvar and say that it was full of beauty ointment.

“The people of my village said that I was so beautiful that even the Lady Margaery herself would never be able to resist my beauty. That she would be smitten the moment she laid eyes on me, and become my slave,” Olyvar said, red-faced and obviously furiously embarrassed.

“Yet you ended up with Loras?” Sansa asked, wrinkling her brow in confusion.

“The Lady Margaery sent him to make me fall in love with some hideous beast, but instead Loras fell in love with me,” Olyvar explained.

“Oh, how romantic!” Sansa exclaimed, smiling happily. His queen always enjoyed a happy ending, he had found.

“Will you assist me in my quest, beautiful Lady Sansa?” Olyvar asked humbly, still blushing faintly.

Sansa glanced at her husband and saw the infinitesimal nod he gave her. “Of course, it’s such a small request. I don’t see the harm in granting you a little of my ointment,” Sansa hurriedly said, smiling widely and looking a little too much like she was trying to hide something. Thankfully Olyvar was too surprised at how easily he had been able to convince the powerful goddess to part with some of her precious beauty ointment that he didn’t seem to notice.

The servant arrived with the box of sleeping powder right on cue.

“Please, take that box of ointment and send Margaery my love,” Sansa said sweetly, glancing at Stannis and clearly wondering what on earth was in the box. He was careful not to show any emotion on his face, giving her no hint of what might be inside the box she was giving away.

“Thank you! Thank you so much, my most gracious lady!” Olyvar exclaimed gratefully, accepting the box and bowing deeply.

“It’s nothing,” Sansa said modestly, “please be careful on your way back. The servants will give you an obol for the ferry if you need one. You may go.”

Olyvar bowed some more and left, looking very relieved to be going.

“What did you put in the box?” Sansa asked curiously as soon as Olyvar was out of hearing range.

“Just a sleeping powder,” Stannis explained wryly, “it won’t harm the person who opens it.”

Sansa shook her head, raising an eyebrow incredulously. “You are a scoundrel,” she said, attempting a straight face.

“Oh?”

“Yes, a terrible knave!”

“Is that so?”

“It is,” Sansa said pertly, crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes at him playfully.

“Well, as I am already to be labeled a scoundrel and a knave I think I will make the most of it, and drag you off to my chamber and tie you to my bed for the rest of the day,” Stannis growled, getting up and throwing Sansa over his shoulder to her apparent delight.

“Stannis!” she shrieked and giggled, “put me down!”

He did put her down. But not until his bed was underneath her.

***

“I told you, if there even _is_ a beauty ointment - which I doubt - you’re never going to get your hands on it. Now will you please get Robert to wake Olyvar up? I’m cranky without my stress relief,” Loras said, feeling irritated and rather exhausted with Margaery’s stupid attempts to get her hands on Sansa’s beauty ointment.

“I can’t believe he peeked inside the box!” Margaery said again, kicking Olyvar’s leg without much force. 

“Hey!” Loras objected, offended on Olyvar’s behalf, “be glad that he did! Otherwise you’d be the one passed out on the floor.”

Margaery seemed less annoyed now that he had pointed this out to her. She sighed and rolled her eyes nonetheless. “I suppose,” she allowed.

“Anyway, I think we can learn a valuable lesson from all this,” Loras said, giving Margaery a stern look.

Margaery looked surprised. “Whatever do you mean?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe something along the lines of: _’do not mess with the King and Queen of the Underworld’_?” Loras said with a few dramatic hand gestures, looking up at the ceiling in exasperation.

Margaery snorted, her irritation evaporating fast. “Yes, I suppose you’re right,” she said with a self deprecating smirk. Her face fell a little after a moment, forming an attractive pout. “You really don’t think there’s any beauty ointment?”

Loras didn’t know whether the sound he made was more of a groan of frustration or a laugh.

“No, I really don’t think so.”

**The end.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Olyvar is a genderbent Psyche, in case that was not clear.
> 
> All my thanks go to you guys for reading and commenting! You are so wonderful and I love you all. ♥
> 
> Special thanks again to spittingfeathers and tommyginger for beta reading and inspiring me to actually finish this fic respectively.


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